


Murder By Association

by tisziny



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU, Crime fic, F/M, Murder Mystery, Sexual Violence, Violence, early established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisziny/pseuds/tisziny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The week starts like any other; with a murder. Jack investigates, but things are more complicated than they first seem. Phryne is keeping secrets and tensions run high, but the investigation isn't the only thing threatening to come between the two detectives.</p><p> <i>[Set sometime shortly after the events of 2x12 and 2x13, written before s3 aired.]</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so this is kind of an alternate to series three. I started writing it last year and it's taken until now to be finished, beta'd and proof read by me. In this story Phryne and Jack got together some time after Christmas in July.
> 
> I'd like to give a huge thank you to the friends that helped me along the way. Sam, Megan, Anne and Gina. Thank you so much lovelies, you're the best.

Francis Hammond had been a happy man. He had a steadily growing glass business, a sweet and loving wife, and four children with another on the way. His work was enjoyable, his business partner a good friend, and with the new deal they were hoping to make in the morrow with a man from Sydney, everything would be looking up up up. 

Unfortunately, Francis Hammond was currently looking down down down, his face pressed into the slightly dusty floorboards of his office floor. A foot stepped carefully around him, clad in a smart black shoe and avoiding the pool of blood by Hammond’s side. The figure crouched and reached for Francis’s wrist, holding it for a moment before lowering it back to the floor and standing.

By the time the footsteps retreated from the room, Francis Hammond was dead.

/// MONDAY - Sunrise ///

Phryne Fisher woke with a small stir as the mattress dipped, her bed partner having sat up and pushed himself to his feet. She frowned, glancing at him under heavy lashes and watched as he pulled on pyjamas and a robe.

“Jack?” she asked. “What time is it?”

He turned in surprise to see her awake and smiled. “Far too early for you to consider getting up,” he answered her.

“Then why are you?”

“I have work,” he reached for her, brushing locks of her short black hair from her cheek. “Go back to sleep Phryne. I will see you for dinner tonight.”

She nodded and her eyes fell easily shut once more, her mind drifting back to sleep. Jack smiled to himself, watching her as he tied his robe shut and found the slippers Phryne had bought him. He slipped from her room and made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mr Butler already stood, placing the kettle on the stove while a pot of porridge bubbled.

“Good morning Inspector,” the older man greeted him and Jack sat down, still somewhat unaccustomed to having Phryne’s staff tend to him in the mornings.

“Good morning, Mr Butler.”

It was very pleasant though to be able to read the paper as the kettle came to boil and his tea and breakfast were prepared for him. He ate relatively quickly, thanking Mr Butler then bidding Miss Williams a good morning as he passed her on the stairs.

Washing and shaving in Phryne’s fine bathroom Jack then returned to her boudoir. She slept now diagonally across the bed, her face buried in his pillow rather than her own. Chuckling slightly Jack dressed in silence, sitting on the bed to pull on a pair of socks and his shoes before he turned to her once more and debated waking her for a parting kiss.

“I can feel you watching me,” she mumbled.

Jack rolled his eyes, “I have to leave now.”

“Oh,” she rolled onto her back and stretched, her body contorting into angles Jack could barely fathom, before she relaxed and pushed herself up to sit. The bed sheets fell from her naked chest and she draped herself across Jack’s back, her arms winding under his and around his stomach as she pressed her face to his shoulder. “You’re coming to dinner again tonight?”

“Yes,” he told her, lifting one of her hands to his lips and kissing her fingertips, “And what are your plans for the day?”

Phryne smiled, “I’ll find something to keep me entertained, I’m sure. Now kiss me properly and be on your way Inspector, it wouldn’t do for you to be late.”

Jack laughed, but turned in her arms so he could kiss her fully. “Goodbye Phryne.”

“Bye Jack.” 

He stood to leave and Phryne flopped back into the pillows with a grin, watching him go.

She didn’t fall asleep again after he left, but lay in bed contented with her thoughts until Dot knocked gently on the door an hour later. The girl came in with a smile and drew the curtains open, wishing her a good morning.

“I’ll take breakfast in the parlour I think today, Dot.” Phryne told her.

“I’ll let Mr Butler know Miss,” Dorothy told her as she laid out Phryne’s clothes for the day.

Phryne smiled, then pushed back the sheets and stood naked and unabashed. She took herself through washing and dressing then made her way downstairs and to the parlour where her breakfast and the paper were waiting for her.

Dot joined her for tea, doing her needlework silently by the window as Phryne perused the newspaper for things of interest.

“Well then Dot,” Phryne said suddenly, folding the newspaper and casting it to one side, “What is on the agenda today?”

Dot looked up, “Nothing Miss, your luncheon with Mrs Wilkerson was cancelled when the Inspector arrested her son last week.”

“So it was,” Phryne frowned. “Well what say we have lunch out today, and then perhaps drop into that department store I’ve seen you eyeing off.”

Dorothy blushed. “Sounds lovely, Miss.”

“Excellent. Now, what’s the time? Only eight o’clock? My, it is early. We may have to move our shopping to before lunch.”

“Shall I get ready Miss?”

Phryne put down the coffee cup she was sipping from and shook her head, “Not just yet. Let’s relax until a more manageable hour. I might find my book.”

She stood, but the moment she did her plans were cut short. A knock at the door caught her interest and she stood still, nodding to Mr Butler as he stepped out from seemingly nowhere to answer it.

Out of Phryne’s range of sight he opened the door with a polite smile. The man on its other side blinked at him curiously, a nervous smile of his own pulling at his lips.

“Is this Phryne Fisher’s residence?” Phryne heard him ask. His voice played with her memory, and she turned it over in her head, feeling something long hidden stirring from rest and piquing her curiosity.

“Yes, Mr…”

“Jack,” the stranger said, “Just Jack, please.” He continued, “Is she available? I’m afraid I haven’t called ahead.”

Mr Butler stepped aside to allow this strange man into the front entrance. He took his coat and lead him to the parlour door to announce the unexpected caller to his mistress.

“A visitor to see you, Miss Fisher.”

“Thank you, Mr Butler.” Phryne replied politely.

She was curious to see this visitor. The unknown man, Jack, whoever he was.

Mr Butler stepped aside, allowing the man to step past him and into the room. Immediately Phryne felt her whole body stop with shock. His eyes met hers and they simply stared at each other, both wordless as the blue looked into blue.

He was taller than her, his hair slicked back with oil. He stood straight, dressed in a well tailored suit but was barely concealing his nerves, twisting the brim of his hat between his fingers, only just stopping himself from rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Phryne,” he said her name on a breath, and hesitantly he stepped forward. “My word.”

She let him move closer, still frozen in her Louis heeled shoes, and he leant cautiously in to kiss her cheek. When he pulled back and stood straight once more, she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. He just smiled at her, his face full of pure wonder as he drank in the sight.

From the window Dot peered away from her needlepoint, watching Miss Phryne as she stared silently at the man. Quickly she looked down again, finding her place in the embroidery and trying to focus hard on her stitches, and not the two people in the middle of the room.

Slowly Phryne opened her mouth, but there were no words to come to mind. All she could think to say came out strained and barely louder than a whisper.

“Orpheus?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a hint of a smile, and he spoke once more, his voice now pulling memories firmly from doors she’d buried in the recesses of her mind.

“It has been a lifetime since anyone has called me that. I go by Jack, please,” and ignoring her stunned silence he reached his hand to her cheek, tilting her face from side to side. “Oh, look at you, Phryne. You have grown so much.”

“It’s been sixteen years,” she whispered stiffly, and he lowered his head slightly, closing his eyes.

“Yes,” he sighed heavily and his hand fell from her face as he stepped back again, indicating the chair. “May I?”

“Orpheus,” she said, ignoring his request. “What are you doing here?”

“In Melbourne? I had business, I made the trip from Sydney, arrived Saturday morning.”

“No, what are you doing _here_?”

He straightened, “Well, like I say. I came to Melbourne on business, and I thought of you, Phryne. I’ve heard stories this last year, even in Sydney. I wanted… I wanted to see you.”

Phryne frowned, “After all this time, Orpheus?”

“Yes.”

She watched him carefully, taking care before speaking again.

“Mr Butler!”

“Yes, Miss,” the man replied, appearing from the door in the corner with a kind smile.

“Another coffee please, and tea for our guest,” as she finished her sentence she caught sight of the tray in her butler’s arms, laden with tea and coffee. “Thank you, Mr B.”

He smiled and silently lay the tray on the table, refilling her coffee before disappearing once more, task complete.

“Sit,” Phryne said, taking her place in an armchair and watching as Orpheus sat on the matching chaise opposite. “Dot, why don’t you join us?”

The girl looked up from her needlework in surprise, but placed it to one side and stood, collecting her teacup as she moved from her place by the window to the armchair mirroring Phryne’s.

“Orpheus, meet my companion and friend, Miss Dorothy Williams,” she began. “Dot this is Orpheus.”

He smiled kindly at Dot and took her hand to shake, Phryne’s simplistic and vague introduction not unmissed. “I prefer Jack. Jack Fisher,” he said with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Williams.”

Dot’s eyes widened and she looked between the man and her Miss Fisher with confusion hidden poorly on her kind face.

Phryne rolled her eyes with a sigh. “ _Orpheus_ ,” she said, stressing the name, “is my brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! So it looks like I will be updating on Monday and Friday nights. :)

/// MONDAY - Mid Morning ///

Across Melbourne a different Jack stood in a large office come crime scene. The body had been discovered and reported in the early hours of that morning, before the start of his shift. Until he had arrived Constable Collins had been in control of the scene.

Papers littered the floor, tossed aside in a search of the room. A safe sat open in the corner, completely empty. The body had since been removed from the room, its position marked out with chalk, but the blood remained and Jack crouched down to look at it carefully.

“What do we know about the victim, Collins?” he asked his Constable.

“Name of Francis Hammond, sir,” Hugh reported. “He and Mr Atkins own the business together. Mr Hammond was married, he lived in Richmond with his wife Mary and their children.”

The blood had dried Jack noticed, and he stood. “When was he last seen?”

“We don’t know sir. There has been no missing person report filed. Mr Atkins said it would be unusual for Mr Hammond to be here on the weekend, but he was found when Atkins arrived for work this morning.”

“Judging from the smell, he must have been here a while,” Jack murmured. “We’ll need to speak to his family.”

Hugh nodded, scribbling into his notepad. 

Jack moved around the room. “I want these documents collected, including anything left in the desks and the filing cabinets. Verify with Mr Atkins that everything is present. Have we found the weapon?”

“Uh, yes sir. Mr Hammonds’ own revolver was found in the waste bin.”

“He had his own revolver?”

Hugh nodded, “From the war according to Mr Atkins. Mr Hammond kept it here because his wife didn’t want it near their children.”

They continued to move around the room, Jack occasionally asking questions, or making sure Hugh took note of a particular clue. Eventually there was nothing more to be done at the crime scene.

“You’ve interviewed Atkins already, Collins?” Jack asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Very good. Secure the crime scene and we’ll go to Mrs Hammond’s house to make the notification and ask some questions.”

“Yes sir.”

Eager to impress his boss Hugh did as instructed, and soon they were driving through the streets of Richmond until they pulled up at the house of their victim. Jack stepped out. Notifying the family was perhaps the worst aspect of this job, but he’d rather do it himself. He needed to get some critical information from these people if he wanted to be able to solve this murder.

Together the two men walked to the front door and Jack knocked. After a moment of waiting it was opened by a woman who despite the swell of her expectant stomach held a heavy toddler in her arms.

“Mrs Hammond?” Jack asked.

“Yes?”

He pulled out his identification, “I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson and this is Constable Collins. I’m afraid we have some bad news. May we come inside?”

///

The oldest of the Hammond children was perhaps twelve years old and she sat by her weeping mother’s side, holding the woman as she shook with her tears. The other children were out in the garden, Jack could hear them laughing and singing as they swung from trees and climbed the branches.

A day maid stepped into the room with a tray of tea for the lady and two policeman. She assisted Mrs Hammond in taking a drink of a no doubt vile concoction for her nerves, then sugared the teas to request and held out her hand to the young girl.

“Come along, Edie, you should be looking after the others.”

“I want to stay with Mother,” the girl complained, casting a worried glance to the pale woman whose tears had eased but whose shaking had not, evident by the rattling of her teacup in its saucer as she tried to drink.

“The policemen need to speak with her. Come along.”

Jack nodded. “Please,” he told the young girl. “We just need a moment to talk to your mother alone. We’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Unable to ignore the instructions of a policeman Edie Hammond stood and reluctantly let the maid lead her away from the room. They heard the back door creak open, then slam shut and Mrs Hammond jumped, her tea sloshing over the edge of the teacup and onto her knee. She looked down at the staining fabric, not feeling the sting of hot water against her skin, then slowly lowered her cup back to the table.

“Are you certain,” she asked, her voice shaking, “that it was my Francis you found?”

“Yes,” Jack murmured. “Identity was confirmed by Mr Atkins.”

A short wail escaped her lips, and Jack continued on.

“He was shot, perhaps during a robbery. At this stage it’s hard to know for sure. But a post mortem will be carried out, and a full investigation is underway. Would you mind answering some questions for us?”

Mrs Hammond shook her head, reaching for her handkerchief and blowing her nose. 

“When was the last time you saw your husband?”

“Yesterday,” Mrs Hammond whispered. “We all went to church in the morning.”

“And after that?”

“I take the children to see my parents after church. We spend the afternoon and stay for dinner. But Francis didn’t come with us yesterday. He said he had important papers to look over, a contract for a new business deal. He’s been looking forward to it for months.”

Jack nodded and looked to Collins who wrote his notes quickly, “And when did you return home, Mrs Hammond?”

“Just this morning. I couldn’t bear to let poor Father drive me home in the rain last night. His eyesight isn’t what it was.”

“And the house was empty when you arrived?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I thought … I thought Francis had left early for work.”

They paused while she collected herself again, and drank the rest of her tea. Jack too picked up his cup, sipping politely before setting it back down and returning to his questions.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your husband? Any old foes or bad business deals?”

“Francis only spoke to me about business when things were going well,” Mrs Hammond told him, looking down into her empty tea cup. “But the deal he was about to make, he said it would change everything. Our entire future. We’d never have to worry about anything again… But no, no I can’t think of anyone. Everybody loved Francis.”

“Thank you, Mrs Hammond. That will be all for now,” Jack turned to his Constable. “Collins, please go and collect the children from outside.”

Hugh nodded and put away his notebook, exiting the room to find all four children playing outside. Only the oldest knew something was wrong, but she had only seen her mother’s reaction, not heard the news itself. Heavy hearted, Hugh led the children back to the sitting room. Edie immediately sat by her mother’s side and the young toddler they’d seen clinging to Mrs Hammond when she’d answered the door climbed up to sit in his sister’s lap.

The remaining two, aged perhaps nine and six, stood fidgeting and stared at the strange man in their sitting room with open confusion.

“Thank you Constable,” Jack said, giving Hugh a look, “that will be all.”

Surprisingly, Hugh caught on, and he left the room in search of the maid, his initiative telling him he should probably question her while the family were otherwise occupied.

In the sitting room Jack asked the children some simple and mostly innocent questions about their father and his recent behaviour. They didn’t have anything much to add to what Jack already knew, but he needed to give Collins time. Eventually though, Edie decided to break the eggshells Jack had been walking over.

“Has Daddy been arrested?” she asked, “Is he going to gaol?”

Jack sighed. This was not going to be easy. But he couldn’t leave poor Mrs Hammond to take the task on by herself. Expressing his regret he told the four children of their father’s sudden passing.

By the time Jack and Constable Collins were able to leave the mourning house, it was nearing noon, and they returned to the station for lunch before going to the morgue.

///

The Hon Jack Fisher, as he preferred to be known, looked very like Miss Phryne, Dot thought. He was clearly much older than his sister, his lined face thin with a pointed chin. But he shared her high cheekbones and he spoke with a posh, but definitely Australian, accent as he told them of his business in Sydney making furniture and his family, of whom he proudly showed them photographs.

His wife, Mabel Fisher, was beautiful with plump rosy cheeks and fair hair curled in neat marcel waves. The boy next to her in the photo shared her plump cheeks, and his short hair was dark like his father’s.

“What a beautiful boy,” Dot smiled fondly, sitting forward in her armchair to look at the photo in Phryne’s hand.

“He is seven now. His name is August,” Orpheus nodded. “Mabel dotes on him, but he’s a clever lad. He’ll need to be.”

Phryne hummed her agreement and passed the photograph back. “He seems very sweet,” she said, not particularly meaning it. She’d never been fond of young children, even when she was one.

“What about you, Phryne. You’ve not married?”

“No,” she remarked, “not for me, I’m afraid. But I have a daughter. She’s fifteen, I adopted her officially last year.”

Orpheus was surprised by this. “How wonderful. I would be delighted to meet her.”

“Perhaps,” Phryne shrugged without commitment.

He smiled, “Do you have a photograph?” he asked kindly, keen to see what sort of a child had captured his sister’s heart in such a way that she had sought to adopt them.

Phryne nodded and turned to her companion, “Dot, dear, would you mind terribly going upstairs. There’s a lovely frame from the Flower Parade, you know the one.”

Dot nodded, “Yes Miss,” and she set her teacup down in its saucer before standing and leaving the room.

“What is her name, this daughter of yours?” Orpheus smiled.

“Jane,” Phryne told him, noticing how his posture tensed slightly at the name. “A mere coincidence, I assure you. She was not named by me.”

Orpheus gave a short nod of understanding, his stance slowly relaxing once more. A pause flooded between them and Orpheus lowered his gaze to his knee, brushing off some imagined dirt to give his hand something to do. Swallowing he looked up cautiously and proceeded into a topic he knew they’d have to eventually face.

“I heard… I heard Foyle confessed,” He stated awkwardly. “I read about his hanging.”

Phryne swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat. “Yes.”

Orpheus nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’m … I’m glad you can have that closure.”

His sister looked down at her fingers with a faint nod and silence flittered through the room once more.

“Where were you, Orpheus?” Phryne asked suddenly, looking up from her lap to stare across curiously at the man opposite. “When Janey first vanished and you came from Sydney I thought to myself, at least I would have my brother. I had missed you so much, and father never let us talk about you. You came from Sydney on the train, and I remember weeping in your arms, I remember you holding me through my nightmares and telling me Janey would come home again. But then you packed straight back up and left. Janey never returned, the police stopped looking, and I was alone. Stuck with father, drunk and abusive as he always was. And mother; she blamed me, couldn’t stand to look at me. And Aunt Prudence; who refused to use her influence to find our answers.”

She looked away, her hands twisting in her lap and Orpheus watched, unsure how to respond to this shift in conversation.

“I couldn’t have done anything for Janey by staying in Melbourne then, Phryne.” 

At this Phryne raised her head once more, her eyes suddenly sharp and glaring through the unshed tears that filled them.

“You could have done something for _me_. I needed my brother, Orpheus.” 

He stared at her, the weight of her words hitting him in the chest. She had been just a child when he’d last seen her, and younger than his boy was now when he first left. Perhaps only five. He sighed, staring at her. Had it really been so long? Sixteen years since Janey’s disappearance, and many more away from them both before that.

So much had changed and Orpheus was beginning to realise that even with the sporadic correspondence he had with their mother, he did not know Phryne. And having seen him just once in over twenty years, she did not know him either.

The question was, would she care to know him now?

“Here you are, Miss,” Dot said, appearing suddenly in the doorway and stepping inside with a frame in her hands. “Here’s the photo you wanted.”

Phryne and Orpheus both started at the younger woman’s sudden re-entrance, but took the change of topic gratefully. Dot handed Phryne the frame with a smile and sat back in her seat, as Phryne leant forward and held the object out to her brother.

He took it, and looked down to it curiously.

The photo was of Jane and Phryne on the day of the Flower Parade, Jane dressed beautifully as a flower maiden and Phryne smiling beside her.

“You are both incredibly beautiful,” Orpheus murmured.

“Thank you,” she replied softly, staring sightlessly into the corner of the room, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I think it may be best if Dot showed you out, Orpheus.”

The man nodded, disappointed. But politely he stood, resigned to following his sister’s request.

“I’m in town for the rest of the week, staying at the Scott’s Hotel,” he told her. And he placed the frame down on the small table with their tea tray before reaching into his pocket and producing a card. “Please.” 

Wordlessly Phryne accepted the card, and she closed her eyes as the older man bent down to kiss her cheek.

“I am sorry, Phryne,” Orpheus said as he straightened up. “That I was not here for you. But I am here now. I hope you will let me... make it up to you.”

Her eyes flickered up to him, oddly heavy in her gaze as she whispered, “Perhaps it is too late.” 

He left then, Dot moving ahead to open the front door and Phryne sighed in relief, curling her legs up into her armchair and waiting for Dot to return. Hopefully the girl would have the foresight to bring more coffee with her, or perhaps one of Mr Butler’s exquisite cocktails...

Family, Phryne believed, was far too complicated.


	3. Chapter 3

/// MONDAY - Early afternoon ///

“Collins,” Jack called from his office, his lunch sitting half eaten on the desk before him.

“Y-yes sir?” Hugh rushed to reach his superior’s door at the call, and Jack raised his eyebrow at the crumbs across the front of the Constable’s uniform.

“Could you bring me your notes from questioning Mr Atkins this morning?”

“Yes sir.”

Hugh disappeared momentarily and returned shortly with his notepad in hand, flicking through the pages as he walked, then passed the item over. Jack accepted it with a nod and began to read aloud.

“William Atkins, co-owner of H.A. Windows and Glass. Friend and business partner to the victim. Confirmed identity of victim as Francis Hammond...” he continued to scan the page for relevant information. “Found the body upon arriving at their shared office at half past six this morning... Mr Hammond usually arrived for work around that same time each day... Would be unusual for Mr Hammond to have come in over the weekend – spent the days off with his family...” Jack flipped the page.

“Ah, here we are, Hammond had been nervous in the lead up to a business deal to be finalised today.” The Detective Inspector looked up to Hugh, waiting for a moment.

“The same deal his wife mentioned, sir?” the young Constable queried.

“Could be, Collins. Mrs Hammond said the deal had been talked about for months, would change their future. We need to find out what this deal was, and with whom.”

Hugh nodded and the Inspector handed back the small notebook. “Get me Mr Atkins on the phone, Collins. I need him to come in and answer these questions.”

“Of course, sir; right away, sir.”

Jack watched as Collins left his office and the door swung shut behind him. He sighed, looked at his half eaten lunch, and began to eat again.

///

That evening, when Jack had knocked off duty and returned to Miss Fisher’s home for dinner as planned, he had a relatively good lead ready to be investigated the following day, and a small titbit of information that had the corners of his mouth twitching into some semblance of a smile.

He hung his coat and hat by the door, and gratefully sank into the chaise in Phryne’s parlour with a pre-dinner drink and a game of draughts being set up on a small side table. Phryne knelt on the floor as she placed the pieces across the board in a starting position, and she remained there quite happily as they played.

She won the first two games easily, and was on her way to winning the third when Mr Butler announced their meal.

“To be continued,” Phryne teased, bringing herself to her feet and leading Jack through to the dining room.

Candles lit the room in soft light, and Jack pulled out Phryne’s chair before taking his own place at the table, adjacent to her.

“How was your day, Phryne?” he asked domestically, tucking in easily to the exquisite meal Mr Butler had prepared.

Phryne gave a shrug, pushing away the lingering thoughts of her brother's sudden arrival. 

“Pleasant enough. Dot and I had a look in a department store; I bought a lovely scarf, and then we went to lunch at the Windsor.”

“Nothing of excitement?”

“Nothing noteworthy,” she lied, sipping a glass of really very good wine. “I think I may take a trip. I feel restless. Would you mind terribly if I went away a few days?”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I don’t really mind, but I might have a look at some brochures tomorrow and have Dot call ahead. I’ll most likely drive, so I shan’t go too far away...”

She shrugged again, and conversation stopped as they finished their meal.

Dessert was a lovely pudding that left the two detectives both feeling full and heavy around the middle, but they moved happily together to the parlour and Phryne played a record as Jack found her paper from that morning and flicked through the pages.

Retrieving her book Phryne joined him on the chaise, and splayed her legs across his lap as together they sat silently in her parlour and read.

Eventually though, Jack finished the newspaper and Phryne peered at him from over her novel. He smiled at her.

“Yes, Inspector?” she murmured, hiding her amused smile as she turned back to her story. 

He didn’t say anything, but stroked his hands along her legs, her silk stockings smooth under his palms. Phryne bit her lip and continued reading, ignoring the feeling of Jack’s fingers pushing her dress higher and higher up her thighs.

“Phryne,” he murmured eventually.

She didn’t look up. “Yes, Jack?”

“Tell me about this trip you want to take,” he prompted, tracing at her knee with his fingertips. “Why the sudden decision?”

“Oh,” Phryne said, her voice just a touch too high for Jack to believe a word she was saying. “No reason.”

“Do you have a case you don’t want me involved in?”

“No.”

“A friend you want to visit, a new hobby you feel like partaking in? Any reason at all other than mere whimsy?”

At that comment Phryne marked her page and looked up at Jack sternly. “I can do as I please; reason or not, Jack.”

He sighed, squeezing her leg, “I know that, I’m not- I’m not trying to stop you, Phryne.”

“Good.”

“But I would like to talk about it. I would like to know where you are going and how long you will be away. I would like – in future of course - to have more warning before you decide to make a trip. As much warning as you can offer, please,” he reached for her hand and kissed it. “Because now that things have... changed between us, Phryne, I find you are never far from my mind. And if you are away, I will worry. And I will miss you.”

Despite herself Phryne smiled, “Oh shush,” she said. “We both know you were doing that already, as you demonstrated quite clearly this past July,” she teased him easily and moved the hand he’d taken to kiss to in turn grasp at his, pulling it unconventionally to her own lips and kissing his knuckles softly.

He watched her carefully and her eyes sparkled from under her lashes as she looked up at him.

“Would you like to move upstairs now, Inspector?” she asked.

Jack swallowed, still somewhat unused to her boldness. But he managed to compose himself quickly and utter back, “I believe I would, Miss Fisher.”

She grinned, fanning her legs out of his lap to the floor before standing and offering her hand. He took it and stood with her, pausing briefly to turn out the lights before he followed her up the stairs to her boudoir. 

“I’ll leave after lunch tomorrow,” she said once inside the bedroom, her hands already working on removing Jack’s tie. “And I will call the station before that to tell you where I’ll be staying.”

“And say goodbye I hope.”

She smirked. “Oh, I can do more than just say goodbye Jack,” and he blushed as she chuckled, pulling his tie free and dropping it to the ground. “But yes darling, we can say our goodbyes. As for how long I’m away; well that depends on how much fun I’m having. Two nights should be enough, but perhaps as long as a week. Unless you have any engagements you need me for?”

Jack shook his head, marvelling that she had managed to strip him down to his undershirt already and he’d barely started on the buttons lining the back of her dress.

“Excellent,” she kissed him softly and pulled back with a smile that Jack couldn’t help but return.

“I believe I will still miss you.”

“Miss me?” Phryne asked. “Or miss the benefits of spending a night at my house –and to be clear Jack, I do not mean Mr Butler’s cooking.”

To Phryne’s delight Jack laughed, his hand curling around her to hold her closer before he leant forward and brushed his lips to her ear. “Why don’t I show you what I will miss?”

And so he did, the two of them stripped bare and falling into Phryne’s large bed. He caressed her from head to toe, worshipping her with his kisses, with words whispered into her skin. Phryne found release in his arms, and he spent himself inside her as she collapsed onto his chest, panting happily. For a long few minutes the couple lay, their bodies glistening pleasantly with sex and sweat as they caught their breath and enjoyed their post coital embrace.

Far from being sleepy after their actions Phryne stretched happily and rolled from Jack’s arms to her back, reaching for his hand as she looked up to the ceiling.

“Tell me about your day, Jack,” she asked, hoping to distract her mind with the puzzle of one of his cases.

If Jack found this request strange he didn’t show it, just opened his mouth and talked. 

“I did have one curiosity today,” he told her, stifling a yawn before he continued. “I have a new case. Murder of a businessman in his office. Place torn apart, files of paperwork everywhere. He was supposed to have an important meeting today with his business partner and a man from Sydney. They had a deal in the works that would, if it was agreed to, give their company a real boost forward.”

Phryne rolled to her side, listening happily, but becoming distracted by the planes of Jack’s naked chest. She trailed her fingers across his skin, smiling to herself as he paused to frown at her.

“Go on,” she prompted.

Jack rolled his eyes and turned onto his side, mirroring her and retaliating with his own fingers dancing across the top of Phryne’s somewhat ticklish hip.

She shuddered and he gave a smug grin before continuing. “I called the business partner in to ask more about this deal, and he tells me all the paperwork concerning that meeting, in fact anything at all that could have had this other company’s name on it, was gone.”

“So? Clearly this businessman from Sydney is your killer, trying very badly to cover his tracks.”

“Yes, that’s what I think,” Jack murmured; sleep beginning to tempt him into its depths, like a siren at sea.

“So what’s so curious about it?”

“Hm? Oh, curious, yes. What I found curious, was the man’s name,” he said, smiling. “Sounds rather like another world, one you’d find much more pleasurable I think, where a woman would have more say over a man.”

Phryne raised her eyebrows and Jack chuckled.

“The man’s name was Jack Fisher,” he said, and his eyes closed tiredly as he returned to his back, and pulled Phryne to curl into his side. “And I thought if you ever decided you are the marrying kind, you might try your hand at convincing me to give up my name in favour for yours.”

“Jack Fisher?” Phryne repeated, making a strong effort to keep her voice steady. “What a- what a curious coincidence.”

Jack hummed his agreement, clearly lost for the rest of the evening. And sure enough, within minutes Phryne heard the soft sound of his snoring fill the room.

She in turn lay in his arms quietly, worrying her bottom lip. No matter how much she tried to distract her mind with other thoughts -her trip for example, and the delightful activities that had tired Jack out so- Phryne couldn’t help but think about how her brother had introduced himself to Dot...

_“Jack Fisher. Pleased to meet you.”_


	4. Chapter 4

/// TUESDAY - Morning ///

When Phryne woke the following morning she made her decision sharply and quickly, and she leapt from the otherwise empty bed before Dot could even come in to draw the curtains.

She took herself through bathing and dressing quickly then ate an enjoyable breakfast (with excellent Turkish coffee) in the kitchen. Dot frowned worriedly at her employer from across the table, but was waved off with a smile and a shrug.

“I shan’t be longer than a few hours,” she said. “And I’ll have lunch out.”

“Wouldn’t you like me to join you, Miss?” asked Dot, uncertain what had taken over Miss Fisher that morning, but not trusting it any further than she could – potentially - spit. “I just need to go upstairs for my hat.”

“No Dot, that won’t be necessary.”

Phryne stood, straightened her skirt and blew Dot a kiss. “Ta-ta, Dot,” she sung, vanishing quickly out the kitchen door.

“Goodbye Miss.”

A few minutes passed and then Dorothy heard the roar of the Hispano and the screech of tyres against the road as her Miss Phryne no doubt pulled out dangerously into the traffic.

///

Arriving at the Scott’s Hotel Phryne warned a valet sternly about her car, then walked inside to enquire at the desk for the room of the Hon Orpheus Fisher.

“Mr Fisher has asked not to be disturbed today, Miss...”

“Fisher,” Phryne smiled patiently. “I believe he will see me. I am his sister.”

A concierge suddenly appeared at her side, an arm extended toward a fine staircase. “Right this way, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne followed the man up the stairway and down a finely decorated corridor. They reached a door and the concierge knocked politely. They waited, and after two full minutes the door opened a mere foot.

Impatiently -and against all proper sensibilities- Phryne stepped in front of the startled concierge and forced the door further, pushing herself into the room. Orpheus cursed, having been jabbed uncomfortably with the door handle, and the concierge gaped rudely.

“Why did you really come to see me yesterday?” Phryne asked abruptly, ignoring the reactions to her entrance, but pointedly closing the door behind her.

Orpheus frowned at her, “To see you Phryne.”

She turned back to the room, watching him carefully. “So it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that ‘Jack Fisher’ is suspected of murder by City South Police?”

“What? Phryne!”

“You said it yourself, Orpheus. You heard stories about me in Sydney, you must know I’m a detective now, and how convenient you just happen to be in town; why not come to visit after sixteen years of silence.”

“Phryne please! I didn’t even know he was dead until after I saw you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly, “Tell me what you know. Tell me exactly.”

“The man I came from Sydney to meet with. We were doing a deal Phryne, our businesses together. I came to Melbourne to finalise the details and sign some papers. I didn’t know he’d been killed until I met with his partner for lunch yesterday,” He began to pace. “They, the police, they think I did it?”

She tilted her head, asking plainly, “Did you?”

Orpheus froze in his steps, “Absolutely not!”

Phryne groaned and sat herself down without invitation. Orpheus took the chair closest and looked at her pleadingly.

“I came to see you yesterday because I wanted to. Please believe that of me Phryne.”

Phryne rolled her eyes, “Fine,” she said. “I’ll believe you. For now. But tell me Orpheus, why should I help you?”

He gaped at her. 

“Oh like you were never going to ask me to step in,” she brushed him off. “But you’ll need to convince me. Why should I help you?”

“Because I’m innocent.”

She shrugged, “That’s your word against the police’s; how should I know who to believe?”

“Phryne, honestly!”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he stood, beginning to pace again.

“This will ruin me, Phryne. My business, my family. Father would likely disinherit me once and for all; you know he’s been waiting for the chance to, ever since he gained that damned title.” 

He reached the far wall and turned on his heel. “But I will pay you any fee, Phryne, do any deed. Please. There has to be some small part of you that wants to help me, or why else would you have bothered to come here?”

“I-” she stared at him, watching how he pleaded, and a small part of her twinged. He was right. There was, buried so very deep inside her, a small part that wished to know her big brother, and she could hardly do that if he was put behind bars. Or hanged. 

“Oh fine,” she said eventually. “But I’m doing this purely as a professional. Not out of any familial obligations, and I will charge you accordingly. “

“That’s completely alright,” Orpheus said, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “Thank you.”

“Hm,” Phryne nodded, allowing him to kiss her in gratitude. “But you will be the one to explain everything to Aunt Prudence when she finds out about this.”

From the alarmed expression on his it became clear that he had forgotten about their abrupt society aunt. But he schooled his features and nodded stiffly. “Very well Phryne. Yes.”

“And don’t think I won’t hand you in if I find you did actually do it,” she added in a mutter, before turning professional and saying, “tell me about this murder, who was it exactly?”

“His name was Francis Hammond,” Orpheus began, returning to his seat, “and I contacted him some months ago with a business proposal. He and his associate, William Atkins, they run a glass company here in Melbourne, doing shop windows and the like. I was enquiring into the matter of having them produce glass to put in the doors of some of my crockery cabinets. But they were driving a hard bargain; we’ve spent weeks going back and forth, lawyers this and that, all money money money...”

“And then yesterday?”

“I went to their office to make things official. Sign paperwork and contracts, open a bottle to celebrate,” Orpheus sighed, and he began to fiddle absently with his left cufflink. “But when I got there Atkins was loading boxes of paperwork into his auto car. He told me Hammond was shot dead, and all the paperwork a mess. He said I couldn’t sign anything until he found the bloody things to sign! Sorry; I shouldn’t swear.”

Phryne ignored it, “So you left?”

“Yes. Nothing more I could do there. I came here, called Mabel,” he groaned. “How will I tell her I’m wanted by the police on a murder?! Why on Earth they think I have anything to do with it... Atkins must have set me up, the toad.”

“Why would Atkins want to set you up? Why would he kill his partner at all?”

“How should I know, Phryne? He probably gets full control of the business. He was the reason it took so long to write up a contract we both agreed to. He was always after more.”

Phryne nodded. “What’s the name of this company? Where’s the office, I’ll need to talk to Atkins. Have a look around if I can find my way in.”

Orpheus gave her the details and together they stood, bidding farewell to each other with a kiss to the cheek – Phryne somewhat reluctantly returning the gesture this time - before she showed herself out and returned to the rather intimidated young valet.

///

“Sir!” Hugh knocked eagerly on his boss’s door.

“Yes, Collins?” the Detective Inspector asked, allowing the young Constable to step into the office with a keen grin.

“I found record of a Jack Fisher travelling first class from Sydney, an overnight journey arriving Saturday morning,” Hugh explained. “And I called for the details about the company, sir, when I couldn’t get through to anyone on the telephone. Fisher Furniture is registered and owned by Mr Orpheus John Fisher, known as Jack.”

Jack nodded, raising his eyebrows at the man’s name and thinking it no wonder that he used a moniker to get by. “Anything else Collins?”

“Yes sir, after I found his train ticket was first class I called the local hotels, asking for Jack Fisher. Nothing came up sir, but I rang them again and I found that Orpheus Fisher is staying at the Scott’s Hotel.”

“Excellent work Collins,” Jack praised suddenly, standing and grabbing his hat and coat. “Let’s go and speak with him, shall we?”

They left immediately and made their way to Collins Street. With a flash of his credentials Jack was led to the same room Phryne had just departed a mere half hour before, and he knocked sternly.

The door opened, revealing a tall man with slicked black hair and a worried frown.

“Yes?” He asked politely, eyes darting nervously to Hugh in his uniform.

Jack held up his credentials again, “Detective Inspector Robinson. Are you Orpheus ‘Jack’ Fisher?”

Orpheus nodded.

“Might we come in? I have a few questions regarding your recent dealings a Mr Francis Hammond of H.A. Windows and Glass.”

Mutely Orpheus stepped aside. Jack and Hugh walked through, Jack taking the seat Phryne had used earlier. Orpheus took the seat furthest away, and Hugh remained standing, pulling out his notebook to scribe the conversation.

“Are you aware of the passing of Mr Hammond?” Jack asked.

“Yes. I was scheduled to meet Francis yesterday, with Mr Atkins. When I arrived Mr Atkins told me Francis was dead and that we would have to postpone our meeting.”

“How did Mr Atkins seem?”

“Shaken. Said he found the body himself, poor blighter.”

“What was your relationship like, Mr Fisher, with Mr Hammond?”

Orpheus frowned, “Perfectly reasonable. I’ve been corresponding with him, and Mr Atkins, for months now about this business. I believe we would have worked very well together. I was looking forward to extending both our companies.”

Jack nodded, “There was no tension?”

“Well, the deal had taken a bit longer than I’d hoped to be completed. They kept trying to change the terms of the contract you see, had their lawyer butting in on my day with ridiculous demands.”

Jack raised his eyebrow at this, and tucked the information away carefully before asking his next question.

“When did you last see Mr Hammond?”

“Would have been on Sunday,” Orpheus said. “He called sometime after lunch. Wanted to meet with me.”

“At his office?”

“At his home, actually. But we did move to his office eventually. He’d left some papers there he wanted to read through with me.”

“What happened after that?”

“Well, I left. I had... I had somewhere else to be. A previous engagement. Francis stayed back to file things properly.”

“What time was this, approximately?”

Orpheus thought, “He called at about one and I believe we arrived at his office sometime before three o’clock, and I stayed roughly... half an hour, yes. I must have left the office at twenty past three.”

Hugh took note of that carefully.

“Did he seem at all strange in his behaviour? Worried or agitated?” Jack continued.

“No, not at all. He was mostly excited, looking forward to having the contracts signed officially. Is that all you need, Detective Inspector?”

Jack nodded. “That will do for now. But I may need to speak with you again,” he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a card. “If you think of anything else, let me know. Thank you for your time, Mr Fisher.”

Jack and Hugh showed themselves out, and the Constable tucked his notebook away with a frown. 

“Do you think he did it, sir?” he asked as they walked back through the hotel.

“It’s possible, Collins, but we can’t know for certain until we talk to the coroner. We still don’t know time of death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving comments, they make the world go round. :)


	5. Chapter 5

/// TUESDAY - Midday ///

The coroner could not be specific.

“I’m sorry Inspector, but all I can say is that this individual died sometime between midday and six o’clock on Sunday.”

“You can’t narrow it down any further?”

“No.”

Jack bit back a curse and thanked the doctor, accepting a copy of his report in person before walking out of the morgue and making his way with Constable Collins to their police vehicle.

When they arrived back at the station and walked inside, it was to find Dot sitting opposite the front desk, a basket in her lap. Jack frowned slightly, and Hugh beamed.

“Dottie!”

At the sound of his voice Dot looked up, mirroring his smile with her own. They stepped forward and Hugh’s eyes darted quickly to the distracted policeman on the desk before he bent down and pressed his lips to Dorothy’s cheek. She blushed happily and Jack stepped past the couple to move through to his office.

As he suspected Phryne sat almost splayed across his desk, her legs crossed neatly, feet resting in the chair he’d much prefer her to be occupying. Next to her was a basket of her own, and from the smell of it, she wanted something.

“Miss Fisher,” he greeted, removing his hat and coat and hanging them on a hook on the wall, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Phryne pouted dramatically, “Perhaps I just missed you,” she said. “You did leave before breakfast this morning.”

This was true, Jack thought. But only because as naked and as close as she’d been that morning, he’d had enough trouble dragging himself from her bed without her protesting and all too distracting arms pulling him back into her embrace.

“So you brought me lunch?”

“Of course!” she smiled. “Come on Jack, won’t you humour me?”

Jack sighed, stepping around the lady detective on his desk to sink into his chair. To his great relief Phryne slid from his desk; only to walk around it as he had done and sit on its other side, facing him once more.

“Must you sit there?” he asked dryly.

“Where else am I to sit Jack? In your lap?”

“I thought the chair.”

Phryne raised her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder to the chair behind her. She looked back at Jack. “All the way over there?” she asked. “But I’m not here on official business Jack, but rather, personal business, where I feed you lunch and shower you with my domestic affection.”

It was Jack’s turn to raise his eyebrows now.

“Here,” Phryne said, ignoring his pointed look and pulling a dish of Jack’s favourite gratin from the basket. “Have some of this.”

He accepted the dish cautiously, but Phryne said nothing, so he allowed himself to take a fork and eat.

“So tell me Jack, darling,” Phryne said, slipping off his desk once more and this time walking around his chair to stand behind him. “Have you found your curious Mr Fisher yet?”

Her hands found his shoulders, and Jack swallowed his mouthful before replying.

“Yes, we found him,” he told her. “Have you chosen a destination?”

“Destination?” Phryne frowned.

“For your trip.”

“Oh! No, I’ve decided I’m not going to go away after all,” she began to knead his muscles, loosening the knots that had formed there. “What did Mr Fisher have to say about your dead businessman?”

“Not much,” Jack murmured vaguely, “I don’t want to let him know he’s a suspect, in case he tries to run back to Sydney. Why have you decided to stay?”

“It no longer appealed to me. I couldn’t decide on a place so I thought I may as well not bother. Perhaps I will wait; we could plan a trip together.”

It was an appealing thought, Phryne realised, to travel with Jack and explore together. She had enjoyed the few times she’d gone away only to discover a case requiring his in-person assistance.

“I’ve heard excellent things about Mrs Moller’s Holiday Cottages in Lorne...” she continued, squeezing at the back of his neck now.

“I have fonder memories of Queenscliff,” Jack retorted, resisting the urge to groan under her touch, and Phryne smiled, gliding instantly around Jack in his chair to bend and kiss him.

“Very well, Inspector. You tell me the dates, and I will book us appropriate accommodation in Queenscliff. Don’t forget your swimming costume.”

Jack chuckled, “I’ll get back to you. Though might I suggest we wait until the weather is warmer?”

Phryne shrugged. “All right,” she said, straightening up and taking his fork from him to steal some of the gratin for herself.

She was itching to ask more about Orpheus and Jack’s investigation, but knew she couldn’t do so yet, in case she raised his suspicion. Instead she took another bite of gratin, returned the fork and bent over to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead.

“Return the basket to me tonight. I feel like dancing, so you’re welcome to join me,” she flashed him a smile, knowing he preferred a waltz to the kind of dancing found in the night clubs she frequented. “I’ll see you then.”

Jack watched her go with a sigh and a small groan. But a night of dancing meant a night in Phryne’s arms. He wondered, briefly, what his housekeeper would make of his absence three nights in a row, and then decided he didn’t want to think about it.

///

Phryne and Jack lay together late in the night. They’d dined and danced and made love hours ago, and were now simply enjoying the chance to be together, Phryne’s head resting over Jack’s heart, his hand stroking slowly along the vertebrae of her spine.

“Are you asleep?” he murmured.

Phryne lifted her head to peer at him through the dark, “No.”

His hand splayed on her lower back and pulled her closer, prompting her to drop a kiss to his lips.

“You need to rest Phryne,” Jack murmured to her.

“Hmm, I think you’ll find you’re awake too, Inspector.”

He chuckled, “So I will sleep with you.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she teased, kissing him again. He moaned lowly into her mouth, telling himself he should push her back and roll them over so they could sleep. But then her leg worked its way over his lap, and her body pressed so fully into his, and Jack’s arms had no hope of doing anything but holding her closer.

“Phryne...” he groaned, her kisses having found the weak spot under his jaw.

“We can sleep afterward,” she murmured into his skin, “I promise.”

Jack nodded, his fingers gripping her hips as they moved against his. “Afterward, yes.”

Phryne smiled and she kissed him again.

Her victory was short lived however, as at that moment there was a loud crash downstairs. Both Phryne and Jack sat upright in the bed, ears perked. Someone was in the house.

Jack was out of bed in an instant, pulling on his pyjama trousers and a robe. He grabbed Phryne’s small gun from its place in her nightstand and moved to the door.

“I’ll find out what it is, stay here.”

“Jack, I can-”

“Please, Phryne,” and he was gone, gun carefully raised as he moved down the corridor and to the stairs.

He crept slowly down, peering into the darkness. A figure was crouched by the doorway to the dining room. Jack levelled the gun and reached for the switch cord hanging from the ceiling.

“Hands on your head,” he demanded as the room filled with light.

The figure had his back to Jack, but dropped the broken remains of a vase he’d knocked over to lift his hands into the air.

“Stand up and turn around,” Jack demanded.

The intruder carefully followed Jack’s instruction. He stood, hands pressed to his head and turned, only to frown in utter confusion at the sight before him.

Orpheus Fisher stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the Detective Inspector that had questioned him at his hotel room that very same day. Not only that, the man was wearing a poorly tied night robe, showing a bare chest above expensive pyjama trousers, and held a small golden gun in his hand.

“What are you doing, breaking into a detective’s home in the middle of the night?” Jack demanded, glaring at the other man. “Answer me before I arrest you for break and enter.”

“Jack, stop it!”

Both men jumped and Phryne walked from the parlour, having snuck down the staff stairs to investigate matters for herself.

“He did not come here to follow you,” she told the inspector. “He’s my client.”

Jack stared at her, “Your client?” he spluttered incredulously. “How on Earth did you even meet him Phryne; he’s a su-”

“Yes, I know,” she stared up at him, refusing to drop her gaze and back down.

“Why,” Jack demanded, “is he here?”

“I believe I’m allowed to invite whomever I want into my home,” Phryne replied simply, though Orpheus had clearly picked the lock on her front door. But she was willing to let that slide if he explained himself adequately. Murder investigations did strange things to people.

Turning to her brother and fixing him with a glare she said, “Come sit with me in the parlour. We should talk. In private.”

Jack scowled, watching as Phryne turned back into the parlour, lighting the room as she went. Orpheus followed. He sat in the far armchair and watched as Phryne poured him a drink. She turned and sat opposite him, not bothering to pour one for herself, and passed over his glass. He drank, the pair sitting in silence until they heard Jack slowly move down the stairs.

Orpheus watched through the open doorway as Jack retreated through the dining room and toward the kitchen, retying his robe as he went. Raising his eyebrows he turned his gaze toward his sister, sitting with her bare legs drawn underneath her in the arm chair, only a finely embroidered silk robe to cover her.

“Why do you have a policeman in your house?”

“I believe I just explained that I can have whomever I want in my house, Orpheus.”

“And in your bed?” he asked. “So that is how you knew I was a suspect. What interesting pillow talk you must have, Phryne.”

Phryne glared at him, “Do not tempt me into changing my mind and letting him shoot you. Why did you come here and break into my house?”

“My aim was to avoid the police – how excellently that has gone. They found me this morning, after you left, and the manager of the Scott’s was not pleased by their visit. I’ve been warned if they return I’ll be required to take my business elsewhere.”

“Why did you not come earlier, Orpheus?”

“I called. You were out.”

Phryne raised her eyebrows at him. “Breaking in during the middle of the night was your next best option?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

Orpheus gaped at her like his answer was obvious, “Because I am scared, Phryne. I am scared the police will not look hard enough for the truth, that they will arrest me and my family will suffer for it.”

“You could have knocked. Mr Butler would have heard you eventually.”

She was too tired for this right now, and far too agitated by the interruption of her night to sympathise with her brother’s irrationality. She said as much, untucking her feet from beneath herself and standing.

“It is late. You will stay here tonight, and we will talk tomorrow.”

“I don’t think your policeman will be pleased with that arrangement.”

“No, I don’t suppose he will be. But this is my house, Orpheus, not his. You will stay; you’re safe here. I will not let Jack arrest you, and I am not going to send you back into the streets on your own at this time of night.”

She waited and nodded toward his glass. Orpheus finished it on her silent demand.

“Come, we will find you a guest room.”

She led him to the main spare bedroom, where the bed was always made for last minute guests, and bade him goodnight. Side stepping his attempt to kiss her cheek Phryne shut the door behind her, then returned down the stairs in search of Jack.

She found him sitting at the kitchen table drinking cocoa that no doubt had a good portion of alcohol added to it. With a soft sigh she stepped in behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and rubbing at his neck, just as she’d done hours before in his office.

“I am sorry about that. I said he could call in day or night, and he seems to have taken that rather literally.”

Guilt twinged in her at the lie, and she knew Jack could most likely hear the falseness in her voice, “Are you coming back upstairs?”

“Has he left?”

“No. I’ve left him in the guest room. Just for tonight, it’s too late for him to go back to his hotel.”

Jack glowered into his mug, “He shouldn’t be here; he’s a murder suspect Phryne. I thought that was where you drew the line.”

Phryne tensed, her hands slipping from Jack’s shoulders.

“He came to me for help,” she said briefly, then stepped back and changed the subject. “Come upstairs, Jack. It is late, and you need to sleep.”

Phryne turned to the door, pausing there until she heard his chair scrape against the floor and his mug hit the table with an empty thud.

Turning off the lights as they went, the two moved through the house and back to her boudoir.

Jack caught sight of a strip of light under the door the guest room and glowered at it, following Phryne into her room and letting her door close behind him before he asked the question burning on his lips.

“How do you know him?”

A memory pulled at her, her small hands locked around large elbows, wind rushing all around her, laughing and looking up into kind blue eyes, spinning and spinning until they tumbled into the half dead grass. Her small head landed over his stomach, and she knocked the wind from his chest with an innocent giggle.

> _"Again, Orphie! Let's go again!"_
> 
> _"Oh Phryne! I can't, you're too big now, getting too heavy for me."_
> 
> _"No, again!!"_
> 
> _"Perhaps it is Janey's turn..."_

Pulling herself away from that garden and all the pain it brought with it, Phryne shuddered. Back in her bedroom she licked her lips slowly and considered what to say, pulling off her robe and slipping into bed.

“We were ...close,” she said vaguely. “A long time ago.”

“Were you sleeping with him?”

Phryne gaped at him incredulously, “I’m sorry?!”

“It was a simple question, Phryne,” Jack murmured, taking off his robe and climbing into the bed after her.

“I do not want to get into this now.”

She reached for the lamp, the bulb flickered out and cast them in darkness but Jack sat still, watching her silhouette as she lay down.

“You can’t expect me to just let this go. The man is my main suspect, he broke into your home and you’re letting him sleep in the next room. You know him.”

Sighing, Phryne rolled over. “I wasn’t sleeping with him, he’s not- he’s not anything like _that_.”

“So then why are you protecting him?!” Jack whispered sharply. “Who is he, Phryne?”

“We are not doing this now,” Phryne growled, rolling over. “Go to sleep, Jack.”

Jack glowered, pushing back the bedcovers and swinging his feet over the edge. He stood up and reached once again for his robe.

Phryne sat up.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting answers.”

“Jack you can’t just go into the other room and demand he talk to you.”

“No,” Jack conceded, switching on a lamp. “But I can arrest him for break and enter.”

“Jack, don’t.”

He began to walk for the door, looking back at her with a shrug. “He broke the law, Phryne.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Phryne shot from the bed and across the room in an instant. She stood splayed, completely naked and chest heaving in frustration as she blocked his way to the door. “I’m not pressing any charges.”

“Phryne!” Jack yelled suddenly. “Move!”

“No!”

“Then tell me who he is to you.”

“It doesn’t matter! Trust me, Jack.”

Jack threw his hands into the air and took a few steps away. “Dammit Phryne, why should I?! You haven’t given me any explanation as to why you’re letting a murder suspect break into your home and stay the night.”

Phryne stared at him, feeling like he’d just slapped her in the face. Tears began to well in her eyes and she brushed them away in frustration, pushing passed him to go back to her bed.

Jack watched on in confusion, but then his words caught up with him and he bit back a curse.

“Phryne…” he murmured.

“Don’t speak,” she spoke into her pillow, “I’m too angry."

"I'm didn’t mean… Of _course_ I trust you."

Phryne sighed, deflating.

"Just, just come back to bed Jack, and go to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Jack nodded, though she couldn’t see him, and he turned off the light before yet again pulling off his robe and sliding into the bed behind her. She didn’t move.

Regret coursing through him, Jack could only sigh. And with that, they closed their eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. Reviews really make me smile, and to be honest I could do with a bit of smiling at the moment.


	6. Chapter 6

/// WEDNESDAY - Morning ///

Phryne woke alone for the second day in a row and immediately bristled. She stayed where she was in the bed, silently fuming at the gall of him as Dot entered, opening the curtains with a pleasant smile.

“Good morning, Miss,” she said, bending to pick up abandoned clothes from their place on the floor. “When did Mr Fisher arrive?”

“You didn’t hear him?” Phryne asked, sitting up and reaching for her robe next to the bed. “He broke in last night and smashed the vase in the front hall.”

Dot nodded absently, “Mr Butler was wondering how that happened.”

“When did Jack leave?”

“The Inspector? I don’t know Miss, I never saw him come down for breakfast.”

Phryne frowned, put off by this further. “I’ll have coffee with my breakfast in the dining room today thank you Dot. I need to talk to Orpheus.”

///

At Melbourne’s City South police station, Jack Robinson sat in his office chewing absently on the cold toast he had made himself and sipping the weak police station tea. He stared down at the papers before him; copies of Collins’ notes, the coroner’s report, police photographs of the crime scene before he had arrived, and his own notes of information gathered from his conversations with Mr Atkins, Mrs Hammond, and Mr Fisher.

The facts as far as he could see them were that his victim, Mr Hammond, stayed home instead of seeing extended family, and invited Mr Fisher to his house on business. Together they travelled to his office between one and three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, without Mr Atkins’ knowledge. Mr Hammond died between then and six o’clock that night from a gunshot wound, his own gun found in the room with him.

Jack sighed, eyes flicking back and forth across the sheets of paper spread before him.

Mr Fisher said the contract had been a drawn out ordeal, with lawyers involved until all parties were satisfied... and the crime scene had been searched, with only papers referring to the contract, deal and correspondence to Mr Fisher’s company missing. And then of course there was the knowledge that Mr Fisher had attempted to run from the police by appealing to Phryne the previous night...

There was nothing for it, Jack decided suddenly, he had no other paths to follow, and the man admitted to being with their victim squarely in the middle of their time-of-death zone. The only thing left to do was bring in his suspect and interrogate him properly where he couldn’t get away.

He stood, gathering his hat and coat before stepping out of his office.

Hugh stood behind the front desk, and looked up with a start.

“We’re bringing him in, Collins.”

“Mr Fisher, sir?”

Jack nodded, “Mr Fisher.”

They walked together to the constabulary vehicle and climbed inside. Jack started the engine and within moments he was making the short journey from the station to number 221B The Esplanade, St Kilda. Hugh frowned from his passenger seat, having expected to go to Collins Street.

“Is Miss Fisher coming along, sir?” he asked.

“No.” 

The Inspector said nothing further, but stepped from the car and crossed the road, leaving Hugh to stumble quickly and follow him. They reached the front door together and Jack knocked.

“Ah, hello Inspector,” Mr Butler greeted him happily, “Constable Collins. The ladies are just in the kitchen.”

“Thank you Mr Butler, but it is not the ladies we are here to see,” said Jack, his voice professional and hard.

Mr Butler heard the difference in it instinctively, and he tensed just momentarily. “How then can I help you Inspector Robinson?”

“I’m here for Mr Fisher. Or has he returned to his hotel?” Jack hoped he had.

“Right this way.”

They were lead to the parlour, and Mr Butler disappeared, no doubt to tell his employer who had arrived, and for whom.

Orpheus Fisher walked into the room not five minutes later, Phryne half a step behind, and when the man sat, she stood next to him; a hand automatically coming to rest protectively on his shoulder.

Jack forced himself not to glower.

“Mr Fisher,” he said, “I need to ask you to come down to the station with me to answer further questions concerning the murder of Mr Francis Hammond.”

Orpheus stared at the policeman, face pale and lined with worry. He looked up at Phryne who was frowning, then back to Jack. “Are you arresting me?” he asked.

“Not yet, Mr Fisher,” Jack replied. “Now please, stand up and allow Constable Collins to escort you to the car.”

Wordlessly Orpheus stood and Hugh led him out of the house. The moment Jack heard the front door close Phryne rounded on him.

“Why on Earth are you taking him to the station, you can question him perfectly well here. I mean honestly Jack, this is hardly an adequate way to make up for your words last night.”

Jack met her narrowed eyes with a stern look of his own, “I am here merely in a professional capacity, Phryne, I assure you. Please. Mr Fisher is my suspect and I intend to interrogate him.” 

He turned to leave, and Phryne stepped after him calling out after the detective. 

“If you arrest that man Jack, I shall see to it he has the best solicitor Melbourne has to offer him!” 

Jack ignored this and Phryne’s front door closed heavily behind him.

The woman growled in frustration, throwing her hands in the air before turning around and moving to the telephone. She rang for her solicitor and friend, quickly explaining the situation, then made for her Hispano, muttering rude utterances under her breath as she went.

///

She arrived at the station quickly and waltzed inside. Hugh caught sight of her and rushed around the desk to stop her from barging her way further into the station.

“Miss,” he pleaded, “Inspector Robinson asked me to have you wait here.”

“Well you can tell Inspector Robinson that I refuse,” Phryne told him tartly. “Where is he? In his office?”

“No Miss, he’s interrogating the, the suspect.”

Phryne smiled suddenly and Hugh swallowed, resisting the temptation to step slowly back from her.

“Well then,” she grinned, baring her teeth much like a greedy and hungry wolf. “Surely I can wait for the Inspector in his office, Hugh. Much better to have me tucked away safely, where I can’t draw any attention to myself...”

She let the threat hang in the air and Hugh gulped.

“I...” he began. “All right, Miss. But don’t touch anything.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Phryne grinned, allowing Hugh to escort her to the office. She sat theatrically in the visitor chair, watching until Hugh gave her a nervous smile and polite nod and then retreated, the door swinging shut behind him.

His footsteps headed back to the front desk and Phryne immediately stood. Moving to the other side of the desk she looked down at the papers covering its surface. How thoughtful, she grinned to herself, reading through the statements and reports. When she was done she sat, frowning to herself.

It was no wonder, she thought, that Jack intended to arrest her brother.

The door opened then, and Jack stepped in. He saw her, sitting behind his desk, all his evidence still laid out, and he swore silently to himself for his carelessness.

“Miss Fisher,” he began in a commanding voice, but before he could continue she looked up and interrupted him.

“Did you arrest him?”

Jack frowned slightly. “I did,” He told her honestly. Orpheus Fisher had no explanation for the missing paperwork, no alibi, and was the last person to have seen the victim. He was planning to call Mr Atkins for a further statement about the affairs of their business deal, and the lawyers Mr Fisher had mentioned.

Phryne nodded stiffly and stood. “I want to see him.”

Jack met her gaze, watching her as she stared back at him, almost daring him to refuse her.

“Who is he, Phryne?” he asked after a long moment, “Please.”

She blinked. “He’s my brother, Jack.”

He stared at her, his brow creasing into a slight frown. She had never mentioned a brother before. No Orpheus –or ‘Jack’ for that matter- had ever featured in the anecdotes of her childhood, or been mentioned in relation to her family back in England. Not even during the investigation into her sister’s disappearance had he heard of Phryne having a brother. Why had she not simply told him when he had first brought up the man?

“Collins!” Jack called suddenly, turning away to call out of his office door, “take Miss Fisher down to see Mr Fisher.”

Phryne walked around Jack’s desk and passed him without another word. She followed Hugh to the holding cells, and with a quiet request he left her alone with her brother.

“Phryne!” the man exclaimed. “You said I would be safe with you. That he wouldn’t-”

“Arrest you for breaking into my house,” Phryne finished. “I can hardly stop the man for arresting you for a murder when all the evidence has its nose pointed directly to you.”

“I didn’t kill Francis. I had no reason to kill him Phryne, he was a good man!”

“Why don’t you tell me everything, from the beginning?” Phryne prompted.

Heaving a large sigh, Orpheus sank onto the small bench and nodded. He began to speak, telling her how William Atkins had found fault with all of the contracts Orpheus had written up, how William Atkins had accused him of trying to skint them, how William Atkins had brought in a lawyer, how it was only when Orpheus met with Francis on Sunday that he understood Atkins was worried Hammond would follow Orpheus to Sydney to join business with him there. 

But Francis had no intention of leaving Melbourne, his family were settled, and with this deal his business would have the stability to continue to provide for his wife and children.

“What about all the paperwork, the contracts? They’re missing.”

“And I have no idea where they are, Phryne. Or who would have taken them. Francis had most of them filed away in his briefcase, and we moved from his house to his office for the rest. He wanted me to read them without Atkins glaring down at me.”

“What happened afterward, when did you leave?”

“Nothing happened. I read the papers, we shook hands, I bade him good day and then I left. It was after three. Quarter past the hour, half past the hour; I don’t know exactly.”

Phryne nodded. That left just under three hours of opportunity for the murder to have occurred, according to the coroner’s report on Jack’s desk.

“Where did you go from there?”

“I had... errands,” Orpheus muttered vaguely. “I was caught up until half six, then I went back to my hotel, had supper and took myself to bed.”

“Errands?” Phryne asked, “Doing what?”

“I’d rather not say.” He hesitated, “Please Phryne, it’s... delicate. But I swear to you, Francis was alive when I left him.”

“But did anyone see you? Can anyone say for certain you were not still in that office?”

“I- yes. Yes I met with someone.”

“Then you need to tell me. Or tell Jack. He will find them, and you will be released.”

Orpheus laughed then, suddenly and falsely and when he looked to Phryne it was with an air of some pity, “As if he’s going to believe a word I have to say. It’s like you said, Phryne. All the evidence says it’s me, why would a cop bother to go to the trouble of setting me free when I make such a neatly tied end to his case?”

“Jack is a good man.”

“I’m sure he is. But a copper is a copper, and you can’t trust them to do anything but find a quick fix to their problems. I heard your argument last night. He tried to ask me about our relationship today, but I told him it was none of his business what you and I got up to. Then he arrested me. Why would he throw away his chance to get rid of me now?”

Phryne gaped at him.

“Oh you imbecile,” she exclaimed angrily, letting her exasperation boil over. “Can’t you see you’ve been set up? And you’re just letting it happen to you. I thought you were scared to be wrongly accused; I thought you wanted to protect your family? Tell Jack your alibi, or else stay here, go to trial and hang.”

And with that she turned on her heel and walked away.

Up the stairs she made a quick path to the front door, hoping to return home and luxuriate in a deep bath and a cocktail or two.

“Miss!” Phryne looked over her shoulder, her hand already grasping the door open. 

Hugh looked at her from across the room. “Inspector Robinson wanted to see you again before you left, Miss.”

She nodded sharply and let go of the door, allowing it to swing shut with a short slam. Jack sat in his office, and he didn’t look up as she entered, taking the seat opposite his.

“I will be working late,” he told her, scribbling onto a piece of paper. “I thought I’d let you know I won’t be able to drop by tonight.”

“Of course,” Phryne nodded, and she waited for him to continue.

But Jack didn’t say anything further; he didn’t offer her any acknowledgment at all. 

Still fuming from it all; the fight, her ridiculous brother, Jack's distance even now he knew everything... Phryne stood with a glare and said simply

“Orpheus has an alibi. He won’t tell me what he was doing, but he was with someone. I suggest you talk to him about it.”

At these words Jack finally tore his eyes from his desk to look at her. But he simply offered her a short nod and said, “Thank you, Miss Fisher. You may go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter :)


	7. Chapter 7

/// THURSDAY - Morning ///

Phryne slept perfectly well on her own after three nights of sharing her bed with the Inspector. She was determined not to be dependent on his presence, so when she woke on Thursday morning she felt decidedly and pleasantly refreshed and well rested.

Dot came in with a tray of breakfast, which Phryne ate in bed, listening happily as her companion told her about the picnic Hugh had suggested for his day off later that week.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Phryne enthused. “You may take all the time you need.”

Dorothy beamed, “Oh, thank you Miss,” she said. “Now, what will you wear today?”

Phryne shrugged, “Oh I don’t know Dot. Something comfortable. Trousers. It’s cold, I think, and I might go out to meet Mac for lunch if she’s available.”

“The white ones, Miss? With the white blouse and the red cashmere?”

“An excellent idea, yes,” Phryne assented with a smile.

Dot found the clothes and laid them out neatly before collecting the now empty breakfast tray and leaving Phryne to dress. Phryne paused to make herself up in the mirror of her vanity, drawing her eyebrows and painting her lips, and she selected gloves and jewellery before heading down the stairs happily. She called Mac and arranged to meet at the Adventurer’s Club for a late lunch, then wandered into the kitchen where Dot now stood, a magazine open to a cake recipe she was trying.

“Baking, Dot?”

“Yes Miss,” Dot nodded.

“May I offer my assistance?”

Dot smiled, “Of course Miss.”

///

Jack slept terribly. His house felt cold after three days of his absence, and his bed was hard and unfamiliar. He ate stale toast for breakfast and arrived at the station that morning in a foul mood only worsened by the weak station tea.

A knock at his door was a welcome distraction from his paperwork and he looked up to see Constable Wallace standing in the doorway.

“Sir?” asked the young man, “the man downstairs, Mr Fisher, he has been asking to speak with you.”

Jack frowned, “What does he want?”

“To talk,” Wallace said, “he says he’s ready to explain everything.”

The Detective Inspector groaned, realising Mr Fisher was probably about to tell him the alibi he wouldn’t give to Miss Fisher. It would mean he was back to square one, with no leads as to who else could have killed Mr Hammond, but he was resigned to at least hear what the man had to say. Standing, Jack made his way down to the cell Orpheus Fisher had spent the night in.

“You wanted to talk?” he prompted, stepping up to the bars and peering in at Orpheus.

“Yes,” Orpheus replied. “Phryne is right; of course she is. I can’t just accept this when I know I’m innocent. You have to understand I had my reasons for trying to keep it all... hidden.”

Jack nodded patiently and waited.

“I didn’t come to Melbourne just for business,” Orpheus began. “Of course there was the business, and it was important, but the truth is that I chose H.A. Windows and Glass _because_ they are based in Melbourne.”

“And why is that Mr Fisher?”

“I needed an excuse to make a trip here. Phryne, for one, but the other...” he faltered. “I left Melbourne almost twenty-five years ago...”

As Orpheus trailed off again Jack sighed.

“Come with me,” he said, “let’s take this to the interview room. Have you been given any breakfast?”

“Not yet.”

Jack nodded and pulled a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking the cell and allowing Orpheus to step out. He led the man upstairs and asked a passing constable for the man’s food to be sent to the interview room, where they then went and sat on either sides of the plain table.

“Tell me why you came to Melbourne,” Jack said.

“To find... To find Phryne, partly,” Orpheus began. “When I first left Melbourne it was 1905. Phryne was just, just a tiny thing then.”

Jack nodded, “Go on.”

“Well I got myself a job in Sydney; I was about fifteen at the time and I jumped at the chance to get away from Collingwood, and Father. My... my sweetheart, Celia, she came to me the day I was due to catch my train. She started begging me not to go; said she was expecting.”

“Expecting a baby?”

“Yes. But I couldn’t stay. Everything was set up, and I needed the money, needed the work. So I left, and I sent her what I could each month. Until suddenly she sent me a letter asking me to stop. I never heard from her again after that; I’ve no idea what happened to her, to the baby. Not even Mother would say what happened.”

Orpheus paused a while, his fingers pulling at his cufflinks. Eventually he continued. “I came to Melbourne with hopes of, of finding her; finding my child. But I needed an excuse to make the trip. I’ve a wife and son in Sydney, I’ve never told them about it. I’ve never told anyone.”

Jack wrote this down, “All right, Mr Fisher. Now that you’ve told me this, why don’t you explain where you went after your meeting with Mr Hammond on Sunday?”

“I went to see a midwife. On Saturday I found Celia had moved around a lot, so I went searching for someone who’d know where she lived. Asked around the local pubs, in the shops, they wouldn’t say a word about Celia, but one woman gave me the name of Verity Lane. They told me she worked at the ladies hospital now, and she would give me my answers.”

“Verity Lane,” Jack repeated.

“Yeah. She was a midwife, so on Sunday with everything else closed I tried my luck at the hospital. Babies don’t wait for anything, day of rest or not.”

“And was she at the hospital?”

Orpheus nodded, “She was. Sat with me outside for hours, I told her- well, almost everything, all about Phryne and the baby and Celia.”

Jack stood then and called out the door for Constable Collins. Hugh appeared quickly and stepped into the room.

“Call the Queen Victoria Hospital, Collins, and ask for Verity Lane to come in at her nearest convenience.”

///

Phryne’s offered help back in her St Kilda kitchen mostly extended to reading each step of the recipe as they came to it, and tasting the batter before it was poured into the cake tin. By the time Dot was placing the tin in the oven it was time for Phryne to think about leaving for her lunch.

The telephone rang as she climbed the stairs, and Dot answered it.

“Miss!” she called out suddenly, stopping Phryne before she’d reached her bedroom. “It’s Mr Fisher, Miss.”

Phryne frowned and moved quickly back down the stairs to take the receiver from her companion.

“Hello?”

“Phryne, I did as you said,” Orpheus told her from across the line, “I gave in and told your policeman who I was meeting, and he went and found her and so I’m free to go. But my damn hotel has said being arrested at all is a breach of what they will put up with. I have until the end of the day to collect my things and go elsewhere.”

Phryne considered this a moment, then smiled. “I would be happy to lend you Dot for the day, and extend an offer to stay with me until you need to return home, Orpheus...”

On the other end of the line Orpheus frowned suspiciously. He knew he had crossed some line with his sister, provoking her policeman during his interrogation, misguidedly breaking into her house before that. And even before all of that she would have been well within her right to refuse him refuge.

“And what do I have to do for you to deserve such generosity?”

“Tell me this delicate alibi of yours. But of course you don’t need to, brother dear. You have been let off the hook; my case with you is over, and you can therefore pay me my fees –and for that vase you broke- and find your accommodation elsewhere, if you wish.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, Phryne. In fact, I may require your assistance... I’ll fill you in.”

“Good. Now, I’m due to lunch, so I’ll send Dot to meet you at the Scott’s; you may talk to me once you’ve relocated your belongings here.”

She rang off feeling smug then rushed up the stairs to dress.

Just forty minutes later (and only fifteen minutes late) Phryne arrived at the Adventurer’s Club and stepped neatly inside. She found her friend sitting at a table with a glass of good whisky in her hand, and Phryne greeted the doctor happily.

“Ah, Phryne,” Mac said upon seeing her. “How nice of you to join me.”

Phryne rolled her eyes, “I had an important telephone call and was held up.”

She sat and Mac’s lips turned up in the hint of a smile, “I don’t suppose it was from Inspector Robinson?”

“What are you implying?” Phryne asked with a mischievous smirk that oddly did not reach the usual sparkle in her eye. Mac didn't observe this, however, and instead took her turn to roll her eyes.

“I simply meant that I had a nurse of mine summoned to City South to meet with one Detective Inspector Robinson on a delicate matter. I thought you may be privy to the details.”

Phryne shrugged, “I’ve no idea.”

“Verity tells me it was concerning the alibi for a Mr Fisher,” Mac continued dryly.

She looked to her friend with a plain but commanding gaze and had a sip of her drink before asking, in a kind way, “Phryne, your brutish father hasn’t followed you home and caused trouble, has he?”

Phryne shook her head. “No.” She murmured, “No, it wasn’t Father, thank Lord. It was Orpheus, my brother... What did your nurse say about it?”

“That a man had been arrested, but he had been with her during the time of the crime,” Mac said.

“I wonder what Orpheus was doing with a nurse on a Sunday afternoon?” Phryne asked. “He said his alibi was delicate... You don’t think they were-”

“No,” Mac cut in quickly. “Your brother would not be to Verity’s interest, let me assure you.”

Phryne grasped this knowledge with a sly smirk, “Oh, Mac dear? And who would be to her interest do you think? A certain auburn haired doctor, perhaps?”

And in an instant Orpheus and his illusive alibi was forgotten, and Phryne was instead focused on teasing her friend gently about the apparent Sapphic nature of one Miss Lane, and the blush on the doctor’s cheek when Phryne pointed out the familiarity of having called her Verity.


	8. Chapter 8

/// THURSDAY - Afternoon ///

Phryne returned home that afternoon in a pleasant mood. She stepped inside her gate and walked up the path to her door with a smile, then entered the house to find a small catastrophe. Orpheus was in the dining room, sitting with a plate of tea cake and sipping from a china cup and across from him was Jane.

Damn. She had forgotten to consider she mightn't be home in time to warn the girl of their new guest.

"Orpheus," she said, announcing herself as she breezed through the doorway, "I see you made good time."

"Yes," he smiled at her and stood to kiss her cheek. She returned it without much thought, then walked around the table to stand next to Jane.

"Young Jane here was kind enough to join me for afternoon tea."

Phryne smiled, then looked to her daughter carefully, "Have proper introductions been made?"

"Yes," Jane smiled politely. "Uncle Jack has been telling me wonderful stories."

"Uncle Jack?" Phryne raised her eyebrows.

Orpheus ducked his head sheepishly, "She insisted,"

Jane nodded, "I've never had an uncle before, Miss Phryne. I think I'll like it. He's been telling me about how he built his business in Sydney."

"Hm," Phryne hummed, "well as long as he hasn't been telling you any tales of my youth I suppose that's alright."

She gave a small but honest smile and Orpheus seemed to sigh in relief.

"Why don't you join us, Phryne?" he asked.

Nodding, Phryne pulled out a chair and sat. Jane grinned and placed a final forkful of cake into her mouth, chewing happily.

Orpheus and Jane continued their conversation, Phryne listening with some interest as he spoke about expanding his business after the war.

“Does father know about this?” Phryne asked with amusement.

Her older brother was rarely mentioned in her family, and when he was conversation was usually cut short by her father’s dismissal of Orpheus as an ungrateful betrayer of their family during struggle, now leeching off of the money their family had inherited.

“Some of it surely,” Orpheus said with a shrug. “It was why I moved to Sydney, a job offer from a friend of Bill’s. You remember Bill do you, Phryne?”

Phryne looked at him blankly, “I can’t recall.”

“Our old neighbour. I worked for him after school, he taught me to make simple desks and the like. It kept me out of the house, away from Father and I’d get some, well, pocket money really, in exchange for my work. And anything that brought money home was enough reason for Father not to belt me when I came in the door. As long as I coughed up.”

Phryne wrinkled her nose, pushing away her own childhood memories of their father as Orpheus continued, repeating what he had been retailing to Jane.

“A friend of Bill’s saw me working, thought I’d make a good apprentice; so he hired me and moved me to Sydney. I learnt my skills, made my way and then, after the war, I started my own business.”

“And here I was hearing from Father how ungrateful you are for all the money of his you so dearly depend on,” Phryne rolled her eyes. She may have grown bitter toward her brother for abandoning her, but she had never believed a word her father said about him.

Orpheus laughed, then raised his teacup to his lips and drank his last sip.

Dot walked into the room then and greeted her employer with an offer of tea and cake as she removed the empty teapot on it's tray.

"No thank you, Dot dear," Phryne dismissed. "I'm full to the seams after my lunch with Mac."

Dot nodded and left, leaving Phryne to look rather expectantly across the table at her brother while he looked blankly back. Jane glanced between them with confusion, trying to get a read on the situation.

Sensing after a moment that her adoptive mother wanted to talk privately with Uncle Jack, Jane cleared her throat.

"May I be excused?" she asked. "I have to read the next three chapters of my book for school."

Phryne smiled, she knew very well that Jane has finished that book twice over since it was set to her a week ago. She nodded her permission and watched as the girl stood and left the room. How lucky she was, Phryne considered, to have such an astute daughter.

"She seems a nice girl," Orpheus said once they were alone.

"She is," Phryne smiled. "Though one day I will have to tell you how I came to meet her. She may surprise you."

She stood then, changing the subject. "Come, Orpheus. Join me in my private parlour. We have things to discuss."

Orpheus nodded and pushed his chair back to stand as well. He followed his sister up the stairs and down the hall. She stepped past the door to her bedroom and up a few short stairs to a single doorway leading off the small landing. Opening the door she disappeared inside leaving Orpheus to follow slowly behind her.

It was a small and intimate room. Dark from heavy drapes covering the windows, with a low ceiling and a fine fireplace lining the short wall space to his right. In the centre of the room was a chaise and footstool, set upon a thick rug that Orpheus suspected had seen more entertaining than the furniture. Phryne busied herself pulling back the drapes, and soon the room filled with sunlight.

"Have a seat," she offered.

Orpheus sat, choosing the footstool so as to keep Phryne in his line of sight. She remained by the window, her back to him as she looked out into her garden, watching the birds that resided there.

"So," she said, still not looking at him, "tell me about this alibi of yours."

"It could be a long story," Orpheus warned.

"I have time."

He sighed, "All right. After I left Francis's office I went to the Queen Victoria Hospital."

"The women's hospital."

"Yes. I was looking for a nurse there, Miss Lane."

"Did you find her?"

"Yes," he sighed again. "This isn't going to make much sense unless you know the full story, from the very beginning."

Phryne turned, facing him finally. "So tell me, Orpheus."

For a moment he wasn't sure if he could. Orpheus looked down at his fingers, wringing them in his lap nervously before he opened his mouth and began to speak. "It started in 1905. The day I left for Sydney."

And her told her. All about Celia, a neighbourhood girl from Collingwood, his sweetheart and first love. How she had come to see him on the day he left, pregnant and scared. He told her about the money he sent back, and the letters, until the day he was asked suddenly to stop. He explained that his return to Melbourne now, was not for business, but to find his child.

"Miss Lane was a midwife. She assisted Celia in her delivery."

"And?" Phryne asked, "What did she say?"

Orpheus swallowed thickly. "The baby was stillborn."

"Oh, Orpheus..." she walked to him in an instant, crouching at his feet and placing a hand comfortingly over one of his own.

"No it's all right. Celia was just a child then Phryne, just the age of your Jane, and I think... I think..."

"What, Orpheus?"

"I think they lied to her."

"What?"

"Think about it Phryne. A fifteen year old girl from Collingwood giving birth in the year of 'six? They took her baby, sent it off to an orphanage, a church, some kind of adoption. Miss Lane sat and listened to me for hours. I told her all about my worries, seeing you again, all about wanting to find my baby. She was so understanding and kind, until the moment I mentioned Celia by name. She told me the babe died, and not a word more. Someone must have bribed her."

"Orpheus, don't you think you're being a little far fetched?"

"Phryne I have to know. I have to be certain. This is my _child_."

"Born in nineteen-six; even if the babe is alive, it would have grown up by now, Orpheus. They must be twenty-three, they could be married, or in a convent. Could have moved anywhere, halfway around the world or pirating out at sea. We don't even have a name to go by. How do you expect to find them?"

"I have to try."

Phryne sighed, then stood and began to pace.

"Do you at least know the gender of this child?"

"A girl. That's all Miss Lane would say."

"A birth date?"

"Not an exact one. But I have Celia's letter. She asked me to stop contacting her in March, 1906."

Phryne nodded. How could they find this girl, if she was as Orpheus suspected (hoped), and alive after all?

"We will go to Births, Deaths and Marriages," she announced. "We'll have to go through all the records of March -and February- up until the date of your letter. There has to be a birth certificate somewhere, and it will have Celia's name on it. Or, if it comes to it, we may have to consider the death certificates."

"You'll help me look for her?"

"Yes, of course Orpheus. If this girl is alive, then she is my niece. And you are my brother. I will help you find her. One way or another."

///

True to her word Phryne helped Orpheus the very next day, going through the birth records of 1906 until they came across Ivy Elizabeth Thomas, born March 17th to Celia Thomas and ‘Father Unknown’. And as Verity Lane had said -as Phryne suspected and Orpheus feared- they also found a death certificate for baby Ivy, dated the same day.

"What do we do next?" Orpheus asked.

"I don't know," Phryne admitted. "It could simply be a falsified record if they took the baby to an orphanage like you think. Perhaps the next step is to... look for a grave?"

It was not a pleasant task.

They spent the rest of the morning walking through cemeteries, not saying much as they looked at the names on the small headstones above smaller graves. Eventually, heavy hearted, they found what they were looking for.

Orpheus read his daughter's name and bit back a string of curses.

"I'm sorry."

He looked up to see Phryne at his side, hesitantly reaching out her arm but not touching him. Like she had thought better of it. She seemed to genuinely care, but Orpheus shrugged her off anyway.

"It doesn't mean anything," he said. "If they lied to her she would have had a funeral. She wouldn't know if the coffin was empty."

"Orpheus…”

"No, Phryne. No. That baby- Ivy, Ivy can't be dead. I won't accept it." He turned firmly on his heel and began to walk away, running a hand through his slick hair and dislodging it.

Phryne sighed, looking after him sadly before she peered down at her niece's grave. The stone was dirty, slightly moss covered. Now she knew it was here, knew who it was, Phryne would pay to have the stone cleaned. Flowers sat slowly wilting in a small vase. Someone still had love for this child. Celia, Phryne thought, crouching and reaching a gloved hand to trace the letters of Ivy's name.

She must still be poor. The vase was chipped and cheap, bought from Coles if she had to guess. The flowers too were not bought or arranged by any florist. Phryne recognised the flora of Collingwood, at least one of the flowers in the bunch she knew to be a weed. The rest were straggly at best. Picked from people's gardens and placed here perhaps just yesterday. Or even this morning... the grass looked wet. Water spilt when being poured into the vase?

Shaking the thought away Phryne pushed herself back to her feet and looked around. Orpheus was waiting and smoking by a tree some distance away. She walked to him and slipped her arm into his, leading him back to her car.

"Come, brother dear," she said. "You need a stiff drink, I think."

A few feet away and hidden behind a large stone angel, a man watched the siblings go. He smiled to himself. So Orpheus Fisher and his little sister had reunited... Perhaps it wasn't so bad the frame up hadn't worked after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) I managed to edit it a bit to throw in more background info on Orpheus. 
> 
> And thanks for your comments guys, I'm loving all your reactions to Phryne's stubbornness and Orpheus' secret and the troubles in phrack paradise. Lol.


	9. Chapter 9

/// FRIDAY - Morning (cont.) ///

Jack knocked on the door of 221B The Esplanade that morning with some trepidation.

He had behaved stupidly the last time he'd seen Miss Fisher; dismissive and rude. But he had just been so frustrated with her. Why had she tried to keep her brother hidden away from him? Why did she feel she couldn’t confide in him? Her brother returned after twenty odd years and yet she hadn’t trusted… He closed his eyes. It was that kind of thinking that had brought him here, like this. With _flowers_!

They were just from a local girl on a market corner, nothing extravagant; but looking down at the bouquet in his hand now he was wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have. It was second nature to him really. He’d bought flowers for Rosie all through their courtship and marriage. He could still remember his mother telling him the meanings of different flowers as a child. With the right bouquet you can tell a story, she would say, and Jack often did. He used flowers to represent his sorrow for a loved one passed, or love and strength on his mother’s birthday.

But perhaps it was wrong for Phryne.

They needed to talk things through properly, needed to be on the same footing. Jack looked down at the flowers and sighed. It had been so long since he’d done this, but, he considered, she did enjoy beauty. And these were rather nice flowers. She would probably like them. He hoped she would like them.

The door was opened then, interrupting Jack’s thoughts, and Jack took a steadying breath.

"Is Miss Fisher home?" he asked.

"I'm afraid she isn't this morning, Inspector. She and Mr Fisher went on an outing. They didn't give any indication of when they might return."

Jack bit back a groan and cursed internally.

"Uh, might I come in? I have these for Miss Fisher, when she returns; and I'd like to, if I may, write a small note?"

"Of course."

Mr Butler took the flowers and led Jack into the entrance hall. Jack removed his hat and was left to wander into the parlour alone. At the desk by the far wall he found a fountain pen and some of Phryne's own embossed paper.

Letter writing had never been Jack's strong suit, but he settled on a few short words he thought may give them the opportunity to fix things, together, and was folding the page neatly in half when Mr Butler returned with a crystal vase beautifully displaying the bouquet.

"I will let Miss Fisher know you called on her," Mr Butler smiled kindly, taking the note from Jack and placing it with the vase on the dining room table.

Jack donned his hat again, bid Mr Butler a good day, and left. He still had a case to solve, and absolutely no leads.

///

"All I'm saying Phryne, is that she has to know something more." Orpheus exclaimed as Phryne unlocked her door and stepped inside.

"And clearly something is stopping her," Phryne argued. "Orpheus dear, do you really expect she'll tell us anything more than she already did?"

"Not to me, but you Phryne, you could appeal to her. Lady to lady!"

Phryne stopped in her tracks and turned to face her brother with a slight frown, "Lady to lady?"

"I didn't mean-"

But Phryne had just remembered something. "No," she cut him off, "you just made me think. Lady to lady... I need to call Mac!"

With a grin Phryne rushed to the phone, "Queen Victoria Hospital, please," she asked the operator, "Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan."

Orpheus stood in the parlour doorway with a confused frown, watching his sister as she sat down, waiting for her call to connect through.

"Mac? I need a little favour," Phryne smiled, her voice drippingly sweet. "Exactly how close are you and your Nurse Verity?"

Five minutes later and Phryne had persuaded her friend into some dirt digging, and invited her to dinner.

"If Verity Lane knows anything more about Celia's baby, Mac will find out."

"Thank you."

"Yes, well. We will see what she has to say, won't we?" Phryne shrugged. "Now I believe I promised you a drink. Mr Butler! Two of your best cocktails are in order I think!"

She stepped passed Orpheus in the doorway and lounged herself in an armchair, pulling at the fingers of her gloves before removing them and casting them to one side.

Mr Butler appeared with a tray, and Phryne reached for her cocktail with a brilliant smile, thanking the older man generously.

"Inspector Robinson called," he said in return, "he left a note for you. It's with the flowers in the dining room."

"Jack brought flowers?" Phryne jumped easily to her feet, spilling not a drop of her cocktail, and strode across the hall to the dining room.

Orpheus followed, leaning against the door frame. "Why do you entertain that man?" he asked.

Phryne sat at the table and reached for the vase, burying her face in the scents and smiling. The purple hyacinths sat prettily between white orchids, and she was touched that he had made the effort to buy her such a beautiful display.

"Why shouldn't I?" Phryne asked, "he pleases me."

"He's a policeman."

"And I'm a detective."

Orpheus rolled his eyes, "Coppers are coppers, Phryne. They're all crooked somehow."

"Not Jack," Phryne looked over her shoulder, pointedly meeting Orpheus's eye. "Jack Robinson is the most honest man I've ever known."

"He doesn’t trust you, Phryne. He doesn't deserve you."

"I will decide that for myself," Phryne said simply, sipping her cocktail and tucking Jack's note under her arm. "Please excuse me. I'll be down in time for dinner."

And she stood, pushing past her brother and striding up the stairs to her boudoir.

///

_Phryne,_

_I behaved like a fool. I will trust from now on, that you will come to me with your secrets only when you are ready. But please, trust in me to listen and help you in any way that I can._

_Yours,_   
_Jack._   
_x_

Phryne read the words through twice, throwing herself back onto her bed with a bounce. She'd almost forgotten she was supposed to be mad at him. In fact she was still mad at him, but she felt the desperate need to forgive him and pull him back into her arms and her bed and... She huffed, dropping the note off the side of the mattress and staring up into the ceiling like it might have some answers for the way she was feeling.

When had she come this reliant on a man? When had she allowed herself to become so... vulnerable?

It was incredibly inconvenient and thoroughly frustrating. Jack had been as he said, foolish and hurtful, and yet even now she found she had curled herself around his pillow in her bed, and was slowly breathing in the scent of him, wishing she hadn't missed his calling by. Damn him. Damn men; and damn these feelings.

But Jack was a good man. A loyal, kind, loving man, and she knew he cared for her greatly. She would forgive him, had already started to forgive him. But, Phryne thought with a sudden smile. Jack didn't need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

Grinning mischievously at all the little games she could play with her favourite Inspector, Phryne closed her eyes and let herself drift off into a very pleasant afternoon nap.

///

That evening Mac waited until after she had finished Mr Butler's rather delectable dinner, followed of course by a delicious apple pie and a drink in the parlour before allowing Phryne to bring up the reason for her presence there at all. With a glass of good bourbon in hand, and the fire crackling pleasantly to her right, she peered at Phryne across the room and sighed.

"Oh all right, ask me what you want to know," she said, having sensed the questions on the tip of her friend's tongue long enough.

"Did you speak to your Nurse Lane?"

Mac nodded, "I did."

"What did she say?" Orpheus asked keenly, sitting on the edge of his arm chair and leaning in, like the answer might miss him completely if he wasn't close enough.

Taking a sip of her drink Mac shifted in her place on the chaise lounge. "She took a fair bit of convincing, you definitely owe me a few favours."

"Yes, yes, yes; of course Mac. But did she have any information of use?"

"She admitted to lying to Celia. The girl was just a child, unlikely to be able to provide for the babe, and her mother -very disapproving as you may suspect, and poor enough she begrudged the idea of another mouth to feed- found a family willing to pay her for the baby once it was born."

Mac paused and took another sip of her drink. "Celia delivered at home, with some complications, and Verity was paid a small fee to take the baby straight from the room, and deliver it to it's new parents. Then she and Celia's mother told the poor child the babe had died."

"So what happened?" Orpheus asked, "to the child?"

"I don't know. Verity gave the child to the chosen parents, and presumably they had a birth certificate created under their name."

"And Celia never got to see her baby," Phryne considered. "How awful."

"Can you tell us anything else?" Orpheus pleaded, "Anything to help us find her?"

Mac sighed. "All I add is Verity thought the new parents may have been called Baker. Or Barker. She couldn't be very certain."

"Thank you!" Orpheus flew from his seat to take Mac's free hand and raise it to his lips, "Thank you."

Mac frowned down at the gentleman, "Yes well," she said, pulling her fingers free from his grasp, "you can repay me by doing the right thing by Phryne."

"Of course."

Orpheus stood and returned to his chair with a grin. He turned to his sister to ask their next step, and found her staring curiously into the fireplace, deep in thought.

"Baker..." she murmured.

"Or Barker."

"No," Phryne shook her head slowly, "no, today, when we were looking for Ivy’s birth certificate. I think I remember a certificate with the name Baker on it. Joan Baker?" She looked up suddenly and met Orpheus' eye.

"We will look her up tomorrow, Orpheus. Now that we have a name to go off, finding her should be relatively easy."

"And then what do we do?"

Phryne bit her lip, "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. But I'm sure something will present itself. Until then, I suggest an early night. Tomorrow is bound to be emotional, you'll need rest."

Orpheus nodded, surprising Phryne a fraction when he listened to her and stood, bidding goodnight to his sister and her friend before retreating from the room.

"You certainly have him trained," Mac said.

Phryne shrugged, "He's desperate to be forgiven. And desperate to find his daughter. I'm not sure which he wants more."

Elizabeth looked at her friend from across the top of her glass, frowning curiously. "What did that brother of yours do, Phryne? Never heard you mention him until yesterday."

"He abandoned me," Phryne murmured, looking down into her lap awkwardly. "I was only five when he first moved away. He'd been my best friend, and he moved to Sydney. I missed him so terribly, and then years later when Janey..." She swallowed, "When Janey disappeared, Orpheus came back. I was so happy to see him, thought he could fix everything; that he'd find her and then he'd stay and we'd be happy. But he left again, and nothing was ever the same. We moved to England a year later, and I never saw either of them again. Until Monday."

She looked up and sighed. "Sixteen years of silence, Mac and then he knocks on my door. I don't know if I should trust him; but I've missed... He used to give me such wonderful hugs. All my troubles would just melt away, I was completely safe from the world. From my father, and the older boys in our street, the neighbour's feral cat."

Mac lowered her glass and leant forward in her seat, speaking softly and carefully. "Be careful, won't you, Phryne?"

Phryne offered her friend a smile, the slightest hint of tears glassing her eyes. "I always am," she whispered thickly, grateful for her friend. "I think I might go to bed myself, Mac. Shall I walk you out?"

The older woman nodded and finished her drink in one last gulp before standing and walking with Phryne to the door.

Spontaneously Mac pulled Phryne into a hug, then she stepped back and retrieved her hat.

"Goodnight, Phryne."

"Goodnight, Mac. Thank you."

The doctor nodded, smiled, then left.

Behind her Phryne closed and locked the doors, then moved through her large house to her bedroom.

What she needed, she realised as she slowly pulled off her clothes and jewellery, was Jack. Jack with his wise words, his quick dry wit. His soft kisses and warm embraces. His love and affection and strength at her side, holding her strong against so many of her demons. She sighed, feeling unpleasantly empty and numb. Apathetic as she slid into a silk night dress and padded over to her bed. She would see him tomorrow, Phryne decided. She would go to City South in the morning and kiss him until she couldn't breathe, and then she would leave. Just in case he got the impression she needed him.

Phryne Fisher didn't need anyone. She just occasionally preferred their presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter, though I'm a bit nervous, lol. Let me know!
> 
> bonus points to anyone who figures out what Jack was trying to say with his flowers.


	10. Chapter 10

/// SATURDAY - Midmorning ///

Orpheus sat at the dining table the next morning frowning in disapproval as Phryne padded barefoot into the room. Her hair hadn't been combed, or her face washed, and she wore just a nightdress with a robe thrown over her shoulders, the loose tie slipping further undone as she sat and yawned widely.

In contrast he had been up since the rise of the sun, had showered, shaved, oiled his hair and dressed in his freshly pressed clothes before walking down stairs and accepting the paper and breakfast with tea.

"Ah, coffee," Phryne smiled weakly as Mr Butler set down a pot in front of her and poured it into a cup.

"Phryne," Orpheus scolded, "it is the middle of the morning."

"Hmm? Yes I suppose it is."

"You aren't even dressed."

She met his eye, arching an eyebrow that hadn't yet been drawn, "I promise I will dress before we go out, Orpheus."

"That's not what I- oh fine. I cannot believe you've become a- a-"

"A what?" She smirked and sipped her coffee -perfect- enjoying her brother's sudden flusterment.

"A _flapper_."

Phryne gasped theatrically. "What on Earth gave it away?" she wondered aloud. "Relax, brother dear, I will dress momentarily. Do allow me to wake up first though, if you will. We have a big day ahead."

"Yes," Orpheus seized the change of topic with both hands, "what is the plan, Phryne?"

"Well I need to meet with someone this morning, but I shall drop you back at Births, Deaths and Marriages if you like. Find the record of baby Baker, compare it with that of Ivy -birth date and place and such- then take note of the parents’ names."

He nodded and Phryne smiled. "Well then," she said brightly, "I will just eat my breakfast and then get myself ready."

From that moment until the two were slipping into the Hispano Suiza ready to go, two hours had passed. Irritated and anxious for their task to begin, Orpheus sat next to her in the car, trying not to comment as Phryne drove recklessly through Melbourne.

She took him to Births, Deaths and Marriages as planned and Orpheus alighted before turning to her. "What time will you be back?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Ta-ra!" and before he could even offer a farewell of his own Phryne had pulled back into traffic and was off.

She took herself to City South and parked the red car amongst a sea of black, shutting off the engine and stepping down to the pavement. Taking a deep breath and straightening her neck Phryne walked directly into the police station and passed the desk duty officer with a cheeky wave, ignoring them completely as they called after her.

The young officer gave up as she pushed open the door to Jack's office, and she smiled, letting herself in before shutting the door behind her.

"Miss Fisher!" Jack exclaimed, looking up at her in surprise.

"Hello Inspector," she said, "I received your note."

Jack swallowed, his eyes flickering across her face and she knew he was trying to read her. Trying to guess what she was there to say, trying to see if he needed to build himself up for another disagreement.

"I want us to have a chance to talk," Phryne continued, "This will never work if we do not trust each other, _completely_."

Her eyes flashed and Jack nodded, resisting the desire to drop his gaze as he remembered the accusation he’d made of her.

"What do you suggest?"

"Dinner. Tonight. But it can't be at my house. Orpheus is there and I don't want him to-" she drifted off.

"I'd be happy to cook for you at my house."

"Yes?"

"Of course."

Tentatively Phryne smiled, "Wonderful Jack. Around eight o'clock?"

He nodded, daring to smile back at her.

Phryne stepped forward then and sat down in the chair by his desk. "I don't suppose I could ask you a favour before I go, Jack dear?"

She was manipulating him. It was as clear as the impish smile on her face. But Jack could not bring himself to care much. She wanted to talk, to work things out. She was not running at the first signs of unstable ground, as a small part of him had feared she would.

"You can always _ask_ , Phryne," he said, "and without offering any promises, I will see what I can do."

"Can you find if there is any record of Joan Baker and her husband adopting a child in 1906?"

He frowned, "I can try. Who is she?"

"Mrs Baker? I've no idea. But I think her daughter might be my niece."

"Your brother's lost child?"

"Yes."

Jack nodded, "Well then, Phryne. I will try my best, and get back to you."

Phryne beamed. "Thank you, Jack," and she stood and moved back toward the door. "I may be out all day, but if you find anything call and leave a message with Dot or Mr Butler."

"Of course."

"I'll see you tonight," she said, "and, oh! I almost forgot."

Stopping suddenly and dropping her hand from the door handle, Phryne strode quickly across the room then bent down, one hand reaching for Jack's cheek. She kissed him, swallowing his gasp of surprise as she pressed her tongue teasingly to his.

After a few dizzying moments she pulled back, forehead pressed to his, their heavy breaths mingling in the air between them.

"Thank you for my flowers," Phryne whispered, and with a pat of his cheek she straightened herself up and left, Jack staring somewhat gobsmacked after her.

///

Phryne returned to Births Deaths and Marriages and found Orpheus at the same tables they'd used the day before. He had two certificates before him, and was writing notes with a fountain pen styled with his name in gold.

"They match," he said, looking up at his sister with bright eyes. "Ivy Elizabeth Thomas and Louise Anne Baker. Same birthday, as we expected, and Louise's parents are listed as Joan -like you remembered- and William Baker. But look at this Phryne, Verity Lane signed as the attending midwife on both!"

"Excellent news!" Phryne enthused. "Let's celebrate over lunch."

Orpheus frowned, "Aren't we going to try find the Baker's?" he asked.

"Of course we are going to try; but my telephone directory is at home," Phryne explained with a kind smile, "we'll return and have a look through it for Mr and Mrs Baker while we eat."

And so Orpheus returned the certificates to their rightful places and followed his sister out of the building, to her car. They climbed in and made the journey back to St Kilda faster than they legally should have, and swept inside.

"Dot!" Called Phryne as she removed her hat and coat at the front door. "Bring me the telephone directory, we need to find Mr and Mrs William Baker."

She moved through to the kitchen where Mr Butler sat at the table polishing cutlery. "Mr B, I don't suppose you could whip up something simple for lunch? Sandwiches will be fine, it's just myself and Orpheus."

"Certainly, Miss."

She smiled and turned on her heel, moving to the parlour where Orpheus now sat. Jane sat across from him, a book in her lap, and the girl looked up as Phryne entered the room.

"Here's the telephone directory, Miss Phryne," she said, standing to pass the book to her adoptive mother. "Who are Mr and Mrs Baker?"

Phryne frowned, "Jane, what are you doing home, shouldn't you be at school- but, oh, it's Saturday isn't it?"

"Yes, and I've done most of my homework."

"Excellent; thank you Jane."

Jane smiled, but continued to look at Phryne curiously, waiting for the answer to her question.

"Mr and Mrs Baker are the parents of a girl Orph- Uncle Jack has asked me to find."

"Oh," that wasn't nearly as interesting as Jane had hoped.

"Why don't you go and see if Dot has some baking she needs help with?" Phryne suggested, “Or finish the rest of your homework in my study?”

Jane smiled and nodded, leaving Phryne and Orpheus alone with the directory.

Phryne took a seat in the chair closest to Orpheus and sat the directory on the small table she often used to play draughts with Jack. She opened the book and began to turn pages, scanning the names listed quickly until she came to B.

"Here we are, now let's see. Baalman, Backman, Backshall ...Badger, no...Bailey, Bain, Baines, Bake, ah Baker."

"There's a lot of them," Orpheus commented.

"Hmm, yes. But that's why we went back for the certificate. We know we want William and Joan, and here see? _Baker William, Baker Joan Mrs_. We have found them."

She stood and tore a page of note paper from the telephone table in the hall, then found a pencil and returned to her seat, copying out the address and telephone number for ‘Baker William and Baker Joan Mrs’.

"Lunch is ready,Miss," Mr Butler appeared in the doorway.

"Fantastic timing, Mr B," Phryne beamed.

They were joined by Dot and Jane for their lunch, the small group conversing idly on the nice day and plans for the afternoon.

"Matilda from school rang this morning, Miss Phryne, she invited me to afternoon tea. May I go?"

"Of course," Phryne smiled. "What about you Dot, do you have any plans?"

"Yes, Miss," Dot nodded. "Today is Hugh's day off, we're going to go for a walk, then have our picnic."

"Lovely."

Jane sipped her lemonade, "What are your plans today Miss Phryne? Did you find the Bakers?"

"We did," Phryne replied, "But I don't think we should disturb their Saturday afternoon. No, I will ring them later today and arrange to meet them on Monday morning."

"What?" Orpheus demanded. "Phryne, I thought-"

"We need to talk about how best to approach this, before jumping into these people's lives. And you still need to explain it all to Aunt Prudence, or had you forgotten that part of our deal?"

Orpheus turned back to his food, fuming silently at his sister but knowing she was right. They couldn't just knock on the Baker's doors and claim their daughter as his own. And he had promised to talk to their aunt; the woman deserved to know, he supposed, that she may have a great niece as well as a great nephew. And what an awful conversation it would be, he thought.

Aunt Prudence had never really forgiven Orpheus for being conceived out of wedlock. It was his conception that lead to his mother marrying below her place and moving to Collingwood with his father, who of course, Aunt Prudence had never approved of. He imagined that his abandonment of Celia and their child would put him even lower in her books. But he had a good wife and a good business and a good son back in Sydney, and he had tried to do the best he could by Celia, sending all the money he could spare until she'd asked him to stop.

The rest of their lunch passed without much comment. When they were finished Orpheus moved to the parlour and browsed the bookcase for a book to read. Dot went upstairs to finish some mending before getting ready for her outing with Hugh, and Jane called her friend Matilda to say she would be coming to afternoon tea in four hours time.

Phryne moved to the kitchen and told Mr Butler she would not be home for dinner that evening, then headed upstairs to rest.

At half past three she woke to a gentle knock at her door and Jane poked her head into the room.

"Miss Phryne?" she asked. "Mr Butler wants to know if you're taking me to Matilda's house or if you want him to drive."

Phryne sat up and stretched her arms high before lowering them slowly to her sides. "I'll take you, Jane dear," she murmured. "I just need a moment to refresh myself."

Jane nodded and left with a smile, closing the door behind her.

Fifteen minutes and a change of clothes later Phryne once again climbed into her Hispano Suiza, this time with Jane at her side, and pulled out into the streets of St Kilda.

The drive was pleasant and quiet, and when they arrived Phryne parked her car on the street, and stepped out with Jane.

"Call Bert or Cec when you're ready to come home," she said, walking Jane down the front path to a fine but rather modest house. "I won't be at dinner, so please behave for your Uncle."

It was strange to keep calling him that. But Jane smiled and promised to be good, then reached out to ring the bell. A maid answered the door and welcomed the guests, Phryne stepped inside just long enough to exchange greetings with Matilda and her mother before she said goodbye to Jane and walked out again.

She headed down the path to the Hispano, deciding not to go directly home again.

Having Orpheus so close after so long was a very peculiar feeling. Especially when his arrival had prompted her first fight with Jack. But it was nothing they wouldn't fix, so perhaps she shouldn't hold it against him; after all it wasn't Orpheus who decided not to tell Jack who he was.

But she still didn't want to go home to him.

Instead she drove placidly through the streets, obeying the speed limits as she went and idly watching the Melbourne streets as she passed through them. After half an hour of aimless wandering she stopped at a park. She recognised the area as being one she usually passed through on the way to Jack's house.

Climbing out of the car Phryne walked along the green grass until she found a bench under a nice tree.

It wasn't often that Phryne allowed herself to be completely alone with her thoughts. But she had had a long and emotional week. It would do her good, probably, to relax and think things slowly through. Especially if she was going to see Jack at dinner that night. They needed to talk properly, not -as Phryne was so sorely tempted to do- sleep together and pretend the fight never happened.

But her thoughts did not want to cooperate. Thinking of Jack simply made her miss him, made her consider how weak she'd become and how much better things had seemed when she'd been with him that morning. She sighed. She would see him soon enough, just another few hours and she would be at his house.

He'd offered to make dinner, Phryne remembered with a smile. She stood up, ready to return to her car, and thought about what he might prepare for them. What did a single man cook for himself, she wondered, and what would he cook for his... sweetheart?

Was she Jack Robinson's sweetheart? Phryne wasn't sure she'd ever been anybody's sweetheart. Her cheeks began to ache and she realised she was smiling again.

Shaking her head quickly and silently bemoaning her silliness, Phryne reached a hand out to the door of her car.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

She turned, jumping slightly as the voice pulled her from her thoughts.

A man stood before her, leaning back on an old car of faded black. The engine was running she noticed, frowning slightly.

"Yes?"

"Are you Miss Fisher?" he asked.

He had something in his hand. Something dirty, perhaps a handkerchief?

"Yes."

The stranger smiled suddenly, his eyes alight in a way that made the hairs on the back of Phryne's neck stick up. She should kick him in the shins, she thought, then climb into her car and hope it started promptly. And that he didn't follow her.

"I was hoping it was you," he said, and then all too quickly he jumped forward, grabbing the back of her head with one hand, his fingers pulling painfully at her hair as the other hand came to close over her nose and mouth.

She could feel the fabric of his handkerchief against her face. Could smell the chloroform as her eyes began to sting and her head became heavy and woozy.

Phryne struggled, her arms weakly trying to push him away, but his grip was too strong, and her feet, now kicking madly in the hopes he'd drop her, couldn't coordinate themselves to hit anything. She heard a strange thud of something scraping along the path, heard the stranger laugh as her eyelids drooped.

Darkness encompassed her, and Phryne Fisher fell limp in her attacker’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter helped clear up some of your frustrations with Phryne and Jack. :P 
> 
> Let me know.


	11. Chapter 11

/// SATURDAY - Late Evening ///

At quarter to eight that evening Jack was trying his hardest not to trip and spill gravy all over his best (only) tablecloth as he rushed to finish setting the table. There was more to this than he'd ever thought about before. Sure cooking the meal was one thing, but getting showered and freshly dressed, then setting the table with crockery, cutlery, the meal, fresh flowers from his small yard, cut and placed in a vase, candles dug out from the back of a cupboard, dusted off and lit. Then blown out again for being too over the top and hidden away. And then brought back to the table. Just one candle, it wouldn't be the first time. It was all so much, and she could be here any moment.

At eight o'clock he remembered he hadn't oiled back his hair after his shower, and he ran to the bathroom to do so.

At ten past eight he sat, finally ready, at the table with a roast dinner he hoped could compete at least a little with Mr Butler's laid out before him.

His ears perked at the sound of every car driving down his street. The candle flickered and burned. He could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, hear the chime for quarter past the hour.

His stomach rumbled.

Half past the hour.

The food was getting cold. Jack began to pace.

Perhaps she was making him wait, he thought. He had been out of line with her, he wouldn't put it past her to want to punish him in some small way.

Perhaps she had lost track of the time. It was known to happen and she had her brother home, a long lost niece to find. She always did get so caught up in a case...

Perhaps she was just running late.

Quarter to the hour.

Or perhaps she had forgotten.

By nine o'clock he had had enough. He moved to the telephone, took a breath, then rang for her house.

"Hello?" The call was answered by her brother, of course. Jack bit back a curse.

"Good evening, Mr Fisher. I was hoping to speak with Miss Fisher, is she there?"

There was a pause, then Orpheus said, "I think she's sleeping. She went up for a nap, asking not to be disturbed, I haven't seen her since."

"Could you wake her, or ask Miss Williams-"

"She doesn't want disturbing," Orpheus insisted, "try again tomorrow." And then the call cut out.

Jack hung up his end and scowled at the phone. He found himself hoping fervently that Phryne would find her niece soon and that man would bugger off back to Sydney.

He returned to the table and blew out the candle, then turned his back on the planned meal and moved to the sitting room. He found himself a book, then sat in his large and slightly worn armchair and began to read.

He reached chapter four before he realised he wasn't taking it in. Giving up Jack went to bed, tossing restlessly all night.

///

Sunday morning was blessed with a crisp clear sky. Dot, as always, had woken early and spent the morning quietly dressing and preparing herself a light breakfast before gathering her hat, gloves, coat and umbrella and stepping outside to walk to church.

She enjoyed mornings, especially clear ones like today where there were no puddles to avoid or rain to cause danger to motorists on the roads.

She enjoyed church more, and listened intently to Father Grogan's every word. She sang clearly and knelt delicately, she exchanged peace with her fellow parishioners and was with God. Afterward Dot enjoyed tea and biscuits (baked by her just yesterday) and some polite chatter before slipping out and beginning the journey back home.

When she let herself back into the St Kilda house Dot took time to put away the unused umbrella and hang her coat and hat. She removed her gloves and moved into the kitchen where Mr Butler was making breakfast.

"Good morning Dorothy," he smiled, "how was church this morning?"

"Lovely," Dot returned the smile and sat down. "Did Miss Fisher say when she wanted to be woken up?"

"I'm afraid I had retired before her return," Mr Butler told her.

"Is Mr Fisher awake?"

"He's in the small parlour. And Jane is in her bedroom, reading."

Dot stood then and set about preparing coffee. Once made she set it up on a tray and excused herself from the kitchen to take it up to her mistress.

At Phryne's bedroom door Dot balanced the tray easily and knocked shortly before entering, "Good morning Miss, it's a beautifu-"

Dot stopped. In front of her was Miss Phryne's large bed, the sheets still perfectly made from when Dot had returned home from her picnic the previous afternoon. Miss Phryne had not come home.

Swallowing back her immediate worry Dot turned on the spot and moved instead to the small parlour. She brought the tray in and set it down on a table next to Orpheus. He was holding a piece of paper and staring at it in the same way Dot had often stared at her bible, as though it held the answer to everything.

"Coffee, Mr Fisher?"

He started, apparently surprised to find he was not alone.

"Uh, no thank you. That's Phryne's vice, I'd prefer tea."

Dot nodded, but didn't pick the tray up again. Instead she hovered, biting her lip and wondering how to voice her thoughts.

"Did," she began, "did Miss Phryne mention where she was going last night?"

"Hmm?" he looked up from his paper once more. "Uh, no, she didn't Miss Williams. Mr Butler just told me she wouldn't be joining me for dinner. Why?"

"It's just, she's not in her bed, sir. She hasn't been in it all night, it's still made."

Orpheus scowled. "Then I believe it's safe to presume she's with that policeman of hers."

Dot proudly did not blush at this remark. Instead she just nodded and picked up the coffee tray. Perhaps Mr Butler would like it. And he would surely know where Miss Phryne had gone as well.

"Did Miss Fisher not like the coffee this morning?" Mr Butler asked with a small frown as Dot re-entered the kitchen.

"No Mr Butler," Dot said, trying to keep the concern from her voice, "she wasn't there. I don't believe she's come home yet."

The older man looked up to meet Dot's gaze carefully, "That is odd."

"Mr Fisher suggested she went to see the Inspector last night," Dot chewed her lip. "Do you think there might be trouble, Mr Butler?"

"There might." Mr Butler thought carefully. There had been a telephone call late the previous night, and Mr Fisher had answered and hung up before Mr Butler had had the chance to answer himself.

"Why don't you call Constable Collins, Dorothy, and see if the Inspector is at the station. Perhaps Miss Fisher is working on a new investigation."

"Oh yes, perhaps she is." Dot smiled, trying not to think she was relieved by the possibility of a murder, and moved to the hall to use the telephone.

///

Jack sat tiredly at his desk and took another mouthful of the horrid station tea. He'd not slept well - damn Phryne for doing this to him. Damn their argument in the first place and putting them in this position at all. He was once again reading statements and notes of the initial interviews and wondering if perhaps William Atkins had caught on to his business partner going behind his back to meet Mr Fisher when an insistent knocking at his door interrupted the silence.

"Yes?"

Collins opened the door and rushed urgently inside. "Sir!" he said. "It's Dottie- Miss Williams- on the telephone, sir. She’s demanding- requesting to speak with you.”

"Why is that, Collins?"

"She's worried something may have happened to Miss Fisher."

Jack frowned. "Is Miss Williams still on the phone, Collins?"

"Yes, sir."

Jack stood immediately and pushed passed his Constable to walk to the front desk. He took up the receiver to his ear and leant forward to speak into the mouthpiece.

"Miss Williams?"

"Inspector! Have you seen Miss Fisher this morning?”

Jack frowned, picking up the neck of the telephone to hold it closer to his mouth, “No. Why? What’s happened?”

“I’m… I’m worried something may have happened. She drove Jane to a friend's house for afternoon tea yesterday and she hasn't been home since."

"And none of you found it suspicious she didn't return home last night?"

"She told Mr Butler she wouldn't be at dinner," Dot explained. "And we thought-"

"Yes?"

"We thought she was with you."

Jack resisted the temptation to curse. Instead he took a slow calming breath then said, "I will be there as soon as I can," and hung up.

Moving quickly back to his office for his coat and hat, Jack rushed for the doors.

"Come on, Collins."

Together they climbed into the black police motorcar and made the journey from City South into St Kilda. Upon their arrival Dot opened the front door, waiting anxiously as they alighted and walked up the front path.

"Miss Williams," Jack greeted her. "Shall we sit in the dining room?"

She nodded and lead them through. Jane sat in the parlour and peered at them from over the top of the book she'd been pretending to read for the last hour. Mr Butler appeared with tea. Orpheus made himself known in the corner with a cough.

"Who was last to see her?" Jack asked as Hugh pulled out his notebook.

"Jane," replied Dot. "Hugh and I stepped out yesterday afternoon, but Miss Phryne took Jane to her schoolfriend Matilda's house in Kew."

"What time was that?"

"I believe they left at a quarter to four, Inspector," Mr Butler said kindly. "They went in the motorcar."

Jane set aside her book, giving up on pretending not to hear them, and walked from the parlour to the dining room.

"We arrived at Matilda's house at four o'clock, and she came with me to the door and spoke to Mrs Smythe,” she told Jack confidently, “She told me to call Bert and Cec when I was ready to come home and that's what I did."

"Jane got home just after I did," Dot added. "Half past five. Miss Phryne wasn't here."

"No, she did not return while Miss Jane and Dorothy were out. And she had told me not to expect her for dinner so I did not think anything strange of her absence." Mr Butler added.

Jack nodded and Hugh wrote it all down. "And you, Mr Fisher?" He asked suddenly, turning to the older man. "When did you last see her?"

"At lunch," he muttered. "Afterward I went to read and Phryne went upstairs. Mr Butler told me she didn't want to be disturbed so I didn't try and 'suade her out. I did not realise she had driven Jane to her friend, I assumed Mr Butler had driven."

"And last night?"

"What are you getting at?" Orpheus snapped, the rough Collingwood edge of his childhood returning to his demeanor.

"Phryne was due to meet me at eight o'clock. I rang for her when she didn't arrive and you told me she was asleep. Now she's missing and because of you we've wasted hours that could have been spent looking for her."

"If you hadn't been such a bastard, she wouldn't have needed to sneak off to see you, would she? You would have been here, warming her bed."

"Mr Fisher, that is inappropriate!"

"How do you know she's even missing, copper? She has her car, she could have gone off anywhere. Maybe she took off, she always was flighty. Maybe she left you."

"With all due respect, Mr Fisher, you haven't known her since she was twelve," Jack cut in. "She would not leave Jane and Dot to worry.” He paused to glower at the older man, then took a breath and continued. "What about her work? Was she working on any cases that might have put her in danger?"

"No. Just the case with Mr Fisher," Dot said.

"Trying to find... Joan Baker, was it?"

Orpheus frowned, "How do you know that?"

"Never mind that," Jack told the man, "did she find her? The Baker’s of all people would have a motive to push Phryne off the right track, if their child really is your-"

"Shut _up_ man!" Orpheus exclaimed. He cast his eyes to Jane who was staring between the two men with some shock. Dot bit her lip and moved to stand behind the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Mr Fisher sighed, "I'm sorry, Miss Williams, Jane. For my language. And my words earlier," he turned back to Jack. "Perhaps, Inspector, we should talk privately?"

Jack considered this, and looked at Jane. They mustn't have told her Orpheus was looking for his daughter. That was reasonable enough he thought, and so he nodded and excused himself from the rest of the party in the dining room, following Mr Fisher upstairs to the small parlour.

Once they reached the room, Orpheus crossed over to a table and collected a small piece of paper. He turned.

"Phryne and I found a birth certificate closely matching the one made for my daughter," he said. "It listed the parents as Joan and William Baker, and we came up with this address and telephone number. I wanted to see them yesterday but Phryne insisted we not disrupt their weekend. She was going to telephone and ask to meet them tomorrow."

"You believe their daughter to be yours, Mr Fisher?"

"Yes."

"And you have no proof of this, beyond the coincidence of matching birthdates?"

"No."

"Do you think it's possible Phryne lied, to keep you away while she went to see them herself? Perhaps she thought you may cause a scene, or make inappropriate demands," Orpheus bristled but Jack continued plainly. "It would not be the first time she's gone around someone's back to find the truth."

"How does this help us find her?"

"If she went to see them, Mr Fisher, they may not have taken kindly to her claims."

"Do you think they hurt her?"

Jack swallowed. He was trying to go by the assumption Phryne was missing, not somehow injured or otherwise harmed. "I don't know, Mr Fisher, but we need to find out."

Wordlessly Orpheus stuck out his hand. Jack accepted the paper, quickly reading the address. "Richmond," he murmured. "Thank you, Mr Fisher."

He nodded stiffly and Jack stepped back toward the door, pausing slightly before he left to say, "I will do everything in my power to find her. She might find trouble like ants to honey, but she can hold her own. I cannot tell you how many times I've come to her rescue only to find she had rescued herself. She will be all right."

"Yes," Orpheus murmured, "I imagine so. She was always a fighter. Thank you."

Jack nodded awkwardly and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I wonder if any of you have any theories...?


	12. Chapter 12

/// SUNDAY - Late Morning ///

The drive from St Kilda to Richmond went far too slowly for Jack's liking, but they reached the address Orpheus had given them in good time and parked the car outside.

It was a fairly small house, the garden was a bit unkempt but the grass had been recently cut, and the path was clear as Jack and his Constable walked along it to the heavy front door. They knocked and waited, then were answered by a small woman with blonde hair flecked with the beginnings of grey. She looked shocked to see the police at her door, and clutched worriedly at her chest clearly assuming the worst.

"Hello, I'm Detective Inspector Robinson, and this is Constable Collins," Jack said, "are you Mrs Baker?"

She nodded wordlessly and Jack continued.

"I have a few questions for you, Mrs Baker. Would you mind if we came inside?"

Her eyes widened a fraction and Jack saw her lick her lips nervously. "Is this about Bill?" she asked. "He's not been hurt has he?"

"Is he not at home?"

"I-" Mrs Baker faltered. "No, he's at his sister's, helpin' her with some handiwork she needs done. He only gets Sundays off," she explained.

She stepped aside and let the policemen enter.

Mrs Baker lead Jack and Hugh to a small sitting room. There was a worn old armchair, a lounge, and a small stuffed footstool centered around a table on which sat a chess set half way through a game and a pile of faded playing cards. The curtains were short, the room lit only by the sunlight through the window, and the rug had seen better days.

Jack accepted a seat in the armchair, Hugh standing poised beside him, and Mrs Baker sat opposite, sitting awkwardly at the edge of the lounge.

"I'm looking to find a missing woman, Mrs Baker," Jack said. "I have reason to believe she was trying to contact you."

“I don’t know anyone that’s missin’,” Mrs Baker remarked, taken aback. “Who is she?”

"Miss Phryne Fisher, she’s a private detective. We found your address and phone number on a note at her house, in her handwriting. Do you know why she might be trying to get in touch? Had she made any attempt to call you at all?"

"Phryne Fisher... No..." Mrs Baker shook her head slowly, her eyes flicking between the two men. "She’s a private detective? D’you know what she’was investigating?”

"You're sure you’ve never met Miss Fisher?" Jack pressed, ignoring her question. "Her companion thought she may have come to visit, or telephoned you yesterday afternoon."

Mrs Baker bristled. "We were home all day yesterday, my daughter and me,” she said firmly. “We never got any phone calls. No visitors neither."

"Where is your daughter? Could I speak with her?"

"She went with her father to his sister's," Mrs Baker told him. "Now if that's all Inspector, I need to have dinner ready for when they get home."

"Of course," Jack stood, "please ask your husband and daughter about Miss Fisher. Perhaps she made a visit while you were out."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a business card, passing it across to Mrs Baker. She accepted it with a reluctant sort of nod and showed them quickly out.

"What do we do now, Sir?" asked Hugh as they walked down the path.

"Talk to the neighbours," Jack decided. "A street like this, someone would have noticed Miss Fisher if she was here, if just for her car."

///

Phryne was woozy when she woke again.

She had been taken, yes. She remembered the park, the man in the car next to hers. She remembered waking from his chloroforming, tied up in a small cupboard, unable to pick the lock in the dark. She remembered yelling curses and threats until her voice grew hoarse. She remembered giving up after the first few hours led to nothing.

But she wasn’t in that god forsaken cupboard anymore, she was… in a bedroom? Had he chloroformed her again? No… she couldn’t remember him coming back, she couldn’t remember anything much after she’d given into her thirst and taken a tentative sniff from the canteen he’d left with her in the dark.

Phryne groaned, realising her own stupidity at drinking anything that bastard had left for her (no matter how thirsty she had become). It must have been a Mickey Finn.

But at least now she could move. Her hands were still tied together, but being locked in a cupboard so small she couldn’t stretch her legs out before her had been trying. She might have had more than her fair share of familiarity with the inside of a locked cupboard in her childhood, but Phryne was quite a bit larger than she had been during her Collingwood days. And her father had never left her in one overnight.

She rolled over, trying to force her thoughts together and focus.

The only window in the room was small and blocked over with planks of wood, harsh sunlight glaring at her through the cracks. But the cracks meant the boarding had weakness, and a weakness was exactly what she needed to get out of here.

Feeling like at any moment she might be sick, Phryne forced herself to sit up and ease her feet over the side of the bed to stand. With her hands tied together and her head still recovering from her drug induced sleep, her balance was shaky. But she managed to make it across the room and she pushed herself onto tip-toe so she could press her face to the wood covering the window and peer out through the gaps.

Her view was of a barren backyard, a fence and an outhouse.

At that sight Phryne felt her bladder make itself known, clenching painfully and adding to her discomfort. She moved back to the bed and mercifully found a chamber pot under it.

What time was it, she wondered as her tied hands struggled with her underclothes. The room was dull but not dark, and the sun outside seemed bright. But she had no concept of where she was or how long exactly she had been here.

Sighing, she decided to push that issue aside for the moment, and instead focus on how she was going to get herself out again.

///

None of the Baker’s neighbours had seen Phryne or her car. Jack marched back to the police issue motorcar and slammed his hand against the wheel.

“Damn!” he exclaimed.

Hugh winced slightly in the seat next to him. “Uh,” he began, “maybe Mr Baker will know where she is, sir.”

“She was never here, Collins. She never even rang them, it’s a dead end.”

The car started, and within a few minutes they were on the road. Hugh watched his superior worriedly. The last time he had seen the Inspector like this had been at the Pandarus, but that had only been a few minutes of panic, quickly followed by Miss Fisher’s escape and the firefight with Fletcher and the other men on board.

But today there was no telling what would happen. Their best chance at finding Miss Fisher had turned out to be a false lead, and now they had nothing to go off. She could be anywhere in Melbourne, or even a fair way out of Melbourne, considering she had her-

“Her car!” Hugh exclaimed suddenly.

“What?”

“Miss Fisher’s car, sir, I just saw it!”

Jack screeched their police issue vehicle to a swift stop, and a motorist behind them braked just in time.

“What?! Where?”

“The park, sir. Just a block back,” Hugh said.

Without another word Jack put his car into gear and turned them around, pointedly ignoring the obscenities coming from the man in the car that had almost crashed into them. They headed back a block and made a right turn and pulled over not ten metres from where a patrolling Constable was writing a ticket for the large flashy Hispano Suiza.

“Good eye, Collins,” Jack murmured, and he alighted to the street. “Good morning, Constable…”

“Smith, Sir.”

“Constable Smith,” Jack smiled, “I’m Detective Inspector Robinson, and this car is involved with a current investigation of mine. Can you tell me what you’re writing it up for?”

“Oh yes, sir. I’ve been patrolling this area all morning, and this car has been parked for an unlawful amount of time, abandoned here near a full day now,” he indicated the tire which had a number of white chalk lines across it.

Jack nodded. “Collins, make a perimetre of the area,” Hugh nodded and Jack turned back to Constable Smith. “The investigation this car is linked to is that of a missing person. I believe this to be the- uh, missing person’s car; can you tell me specifically how long it has been here?”

“Yes, sir,” Smith pulled out a notebook and flipped back a page. “I first noticed it here early yesterday evening sir, and gave it a ticket. I was off duty overnight, but when I returned this morning the car was still here so I gave it another ticket, and I’ve continued to do so sir, every two hours of it being parked. It has remained here all night and all morning.”

“Sir!”

Smith and the Inspector looked over to Hugh. He was standing in some shrubbery just a few yards away, and his arm was extended downward pointing near the base of the plant. There, caught in the branches, was a shoe. A woman’s shoe, Louis heeled with untied oxford laces and deco stitching.

“Could it be Miss Fisher’s, sir?”

Jack stared down at the footwear. He hadn’t ever taken stock of Phryne’s shoes, but it looked modern and elegant. No doubt expensive. They would need to check - Miss Williams would know- but it seemed almost certain.

“Most likely, Collins,” he murmured eventually, and he swallowed thickly.

Phryne was not simply missing anymore, she had been taken in a struggle. He cleared his throat.

“This is now an abduction case. Smith, call for more men from City South, this is a crime scene.”

“Yes sir!” Smith rushed off to follow his orders and Jack turned to Hugh.

“There are no signs of anyone being dragged to or from this point, sir,” the young constable offered, “Miss Fisher was perhaps, grabbed from her car and carried away?”

“In the middle of the afternoon? Someone would have seen a lady being attacked and carried away, even if they incapacitated her,” Jack bent and picked up the shoe, holding it close to his face, trying to deduce something, anything that could help them.

“They might have had a gun? Or a knife. She could have gone with them under threat.”

“And the shoe?”

“Suggests a struggle...” Hugh realised. “She must have kicked it off while trying to get away.”

Jack stood. “They must have had their own car. Next to hers perhaps, an ambush. Fancy lady in a fancy car pulls up to the park, someone sees an opportunity and snatches her hoping for ransom.”

“Why not steal her car, sir, if they want money?”

“Too flash. A car like a Hispano doesn't go unnoticed, Collins,” the Inspector considered. “Or else this is as we thought, and caught up in Mr Fisher and the Baker’s. Not about money at all, but about the woman. Easier to leave her car here, it’s noisy and noticeable, and anyone with sharp eyes could see if a woman was hostage in the back. Or maybe they just lacked the manpower to take her and the vehicle. We could be looking for a man on his own. _Damn_.”

He hissed the curse. Too many theories, not enough definitive answers.

“Collins stay here and wait for Smith to return. I want you in charge of this scene.”

“What about you sir?”

“I’m going to see Prudence Stanley.”

///

“What do you mean _missing_?!” Prudence Stanley demanded half an hour later.

“I mean Phryne has not been seen since late yesterday afternoon, and her car has been found abandoned at a park in Richmond” Jack repeated. “Please, Mrs Stanley, time is of the essence here. Has she said anything to you, about her cases? Any worries she may have been having about her safety?”

Mrs Stanley sat down. Colour began to fade from her features as the seriousness of the matter began to sink in. “She doesn't talk to me about such things.”

“When did you last see her?”

“Not since last week. We were supposed to meet on Wednesday for a charity luncheon that I’ve had planned for weeks, but she cancelled that morning and I haven’t seen or heard from her since, Inspector.”

Jack sighed, and reached out to place a hand over Prudence’s, “I will find her.”

Prudence gave a sharp nod. “Yes,” she said, and there was no questioning in her voice. She pulled her hand away and busied it by reaching for her tea cup. Jack cleared his throat.

“Tell me about Phryne’s brother.”

“Orpheus? Why on Earth do you need to know about _him_? The boy ran off to Sydney and hasn’t been back in twenty years,” She sniffed. “Broke young Phryne’s heart when he left; and his mother’s too. Off he went and not even a postcard home.”

“He’s been in Melbourne since last Saturday morning.”

Prudence gasped. “He’s here?” she whispered. “Do you think he had something- is he involved in Phryne’s… disappearance?”

“I don’t believe so. He has been staying at her house, and he would have been there with Mr Butler at the time of Phryne’s abduction,” Jack told her. Then he considered his next question and swallowed nervously. “Mrs Stanley, are you sure you can’t think of anyone that woul-”

“I need to see him. At once.” Prudence stood and began to leave the room, Jack watching her in alarm. “You can show yourself out, Inspector.”

“I need to inform the household that we found her car, Mrs Stanley. I could offer you a lift.”

“Very well then.” She collected her coat, hat and gloves and followed Jack to his car. Jack opened the passenger door for her and prepared himself for an awkward and silent drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are everything, thank you for reading this chapter! :)


	13. Chapter 13

/// SUNDAY - Mid Afternoon ///

Jack arrived back at City South Station with some relief. Phryne’s household had of course been devastated to hear the Hispano had been found abandoned and that Phryne appeared to have been taken by force rather than missing of her own will. Poor Jane had wept into his comforting arms while Dot confirmed with tear stained cheeks that the shoe they found at their crime scene was Miss Fisher’s.

The worst of it had been her aunt, however.

Prudence Stanley had taken Orpheus by the ear and dragged him to the parlour. Their shouting had reverberated through the entire house while Jack tried once again to ask Jane and Dot if they knew of anyone who might want to hurt Phryne.

They couldn’t think of anyone, so heavy hearted but glad to leave the shouting behind, Jack had left.

“Inspector Robinson,” called the desk duty constable as Jack pushed open the heavy doors of City South.

“Yes, Constable Wallace?”

“There’s a woman waiting for you, sir. She was rather firm that she would only speak to you, sir, so I’ve left her waiting in your office.”

All at once hope filled Jack’s chest. Phryne, she must have escaped somehow, she must have come all this way, just one shoe, probably without funds too, just to see him. He strode quickly to his office door and pushed it open, his mouth opening ready to greet his lover and pull her close.

But the woman sitting at his desk was not Phryne. Jack’s steps faltered. His hope vanished, replaced quickly by dread, and an annoying sense of embarrassing shame.

He swallowed thickly and walked around his desk and sat down.

Mrs Hammond sat across from him.

More shame filled him, he had lost sight of his original case in the search for Phryne. This poor woman was mourning the death of her husband and he had spent the entire day looking for his own lover instead.

“Mrs Hammond,” he said evenly. “How can I help you?”

Mary Hammond met his soft gaze with her own, “I think I have something from the- the man who killed my husband,” she whispered.

Jack frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“When I came home today, from my parents’ house, I found this on the doorstep,” she reached a shaking hand into her purse and retrieved an envelope. Jack held out his hand and accepted it.

It was old paper, cheap with no distinguishing marks or features. It was blank, and the top had been cut open with a letter opener. He reached inside and pulled out five worn and battered one pound notes, and a small slip of the same cheap paper. Written on the paper were the words _‘For the children. I’m sorry’_.

“Mrs Hammond…”

“I don’t want his money,” she said firmly, “I won’t let him pay me, as though any amount of money could bring my husband back. I just want him found, Inspector. I want him caught so I can tell my children that the world can, even in its cruelest moments, be just.”

Jack nodded. “What time did you find this, Mrs Hammond?”

“Two o’clock. The children and I went to church this morning, then we went to my parents house, like we always do. But we decided to only stay for lunch, and my father drove us home. I found the note and I came straight here.”

“And there was nothing else? Nothing unusual you noticed, this morning or later?”

“Only… My priest spoke today, of the loss of my husband. The funeral arrangements,” she paused, holding back fresh tears. “So there were flowers at my door. They’ve been coming all week, I didn’t think anything of them.”

“Was this note with any of the flowers?”

“No, it had been put through the letterbox.”

Jack nodded. “Well then, Mrs Hammond, I believe you may be right. Please, allow me to take you home, I will need to talk with your neighbours. Perhaps they saw who delivered this note.”

He stood and Mrs Hammond did too, “Thank you, Inspector.”

They made the short drive in Jack’s police car from City South to her house in Richmond and Jack saw the lady inside before walking around her front garden to knock on the neighbour’s door.

“Oh it’s such a terrible thing, dreadful!” exclaimed the elderly neighbour to the immediate right of Mrs Hammond’s house. “Poor Mary, dear girl. She’s having another baby, you know. Goodness knows how she will cope.”

“But did you see anyone at her house today?” Jack repeated, “Anyone at all?”

“Oh no dear, I’m not one to pry on my neighbours. But you could try Eunice across the road, she was in her garden all morning, re-planting her flower garden. And on a Sunday!” the elderly woman shook her head. “She would have seen everything. Been very keen to poke her head through the curtains this week, I think.”

Jack nodded and tipped his hat, “Thank you.”

Eunice-across-the-road had seen someone. Quite a few someones it seemed.

“There was the Jackson’s from three doors down, and Mrs Jones from my church group. Then there was a man I didn’t recognise at about lunch time, and little Jillian Rhodes, a school friend of one of the delightful Hammond children.”

“Was the man carrying anything?” Jack asked with interest, his pen poised over a notebook, his patience waning.

“Flowers,” nodded Eunice, “a rather big bunch. But they was almost all carrying flowers.”

Jack sighed, then licked his lips and asked, “Did you see anyone approach the house without flowers, Mrs Davies?”

Eunice Davies tilted her head to one side in thought, “As a matter of fact,” she said eventually, “I did.”

“Can you describe them?”

“Oh yes, Inspector,” the woman smiled. “She was small, and looked to be in rather a hurry. Walked all the way up the street from around the corner there, straight to the Hammond’s door, then turned around and walked right back. Odd woman, I thought, she kept looking over her shoulder. Clutching her hat and stumbling on the pavement.”

“She?” Jack gaped in spite of himself. “Are you certain?”

“Perfectly. She was blonde and slight -too slight if you ask me; her clothes were much too loose on ‘er. Hand-offs, or charity bins, I think.”

“And she was the only one without flowers?”

“The only one,” Eunice confirmed.

“Thank you, Mrs Davies. If you remember anything more, please, be in touch,” he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to the gossiping woman. She saw him out with a great smile and Jack returned to his car with, it seemed, a brand new suspect.

///

Phryne felt her stomach grumble painfully. Her captor had not come to give her any lunch, or any food at all. Actually, Phryne hadn’t seen her captor at all since arriving here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

She had been listening by the door a while, using the time to attempt to loosen the rope around her wrists, and had come to the conclusion that whoever had taken her was not in the house.

He had done a good job of locking her in though. By her estimate it had taken Phryne the better part of an hour, with much twisting and pulling and gnawing with her teeth, to finally slip one sore and red hand free of her bounds and undo the knots properly. Since then she had spent her time trying to find another way out of this room.

Without her lockpick, dagger, or even a hair pin however, the room had bested her. The one door was locked and bolted from the outside, and the window was too small and high to climb through, even if she managed to break the boards covering it.

She would have to wait until who ever had her came back. Now that her hands were free and she had adequate space to move around in she might be able to properly fight her way out of this. And then she could find the nearest telephone and call Jack.

But... did he even know she was missing?

Maybe he thought she had stood him up, given him the cold shoulder. She’d told Mr Butler not to expect her for dinner, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d spent the night somewhere else after going out on a Saturday night. Did any of them know she was in danger? That she’d been drugged and abducted and taken to Lord knows where. Did they even know to look for her?

///

The Anglican church Mrs Hammond and her family attended was just a short drive away. Jack stepped inside and found Reverend Ellison walking between pews. He was collecting stray items that had been left behind after the morning's service and replacing Bibles to their place in the backs of each seat. At the sound of Jack walking in he lifted his head and smiled kindly.

“Can I help you, Detective?”

Jack blinked in surprise and Reverend Ellison gave a small shrug, “Who else would you be?”

“Reverend, I wanted to ask you some questions about your parishioners.”

Reverend Ellison indicated the pew, and Jack obediently sat. The Reverend sat next to him, “What would you like to know?”

“What can you tell me about Mr and Mrs Hammond?”

“Well, as I suspect you know, Detective, Francis Hammond passed last week. He was a good man, good to his wife and his children. His poor Mary has been to see me almost every day this week. Are you close to finding the man who killed him?”

“That’s why I’m here, Reverend. Mrs Hammond received a note through her letterbox today, she said you mentioned the plans for her husband’s funeral in your service today. Did anyone stand out as being interested in that information? Did anyone approach you for the Hammond’s address?”

“Yes, I had a few people hoping to give their condolences. Let’s see, there was Mrs White and the Johnston’s. Mrs Jones I saw talking to Eunice Davies, a neighbour of Mary’s I believe. Then there was poor Miss Thomas, and Esther Knight. But the Hammond’s have been coming here for years, Mary since she was a girl. They’ve always been well liked and respected, other’s may have approached Mary herself, or Mrs Davies.”

Jack listed the names carefully in his notebook, “And no one stood out to you?”

Reverend Ellison hesitated.

“Reverend?”

“Poor… Poor Miss Thomas always rather stands out to me,” he said eventually.

“Why is that?”

“She’s been coming here for some time now, and I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her say more than two sentences to any of the other parishioners. I couldn’t even tell you her Christian name.”

“Can you describe her?”

“Short, and I believe her hair is blonde, but she wears a hat. The same hat, and the same cloak, every week. And she’s the first to leave most days, so I was taken aback when she approached me today.”

“Any idea where she lives?”

“Not in Richmond,” Reverend Ellison answered easily, “Collingwood, perhaps.”

Jack nodded, writing it down. He thanked the Reverend for his time and stood. He had no idea if this Miss Thomas had been the one to deliver the note or not, but it was a trail he’d have to follow. Tomorrow was Monday, and he would look up all the Miss Thomas’s in Melbourne if it came to it. For now, Jack returned to the station. Pushing open the heavy doors he walked headlong into a uniform clad Constable.

“Inspector!” It was Collins, about to leave for the day.

“Collins. Did you find anything in Miss Fisher's car?”

“No sir, and no further evidence around the scene either. We had photographs taken, and I’ve put Constable Smith’s tickets and statement on your desk.”

“Very good Collins. Are you heading home for the evening?”

“Yes sir. I was going to return Miss Fisher’s car to her house first -if that’s alright?”

Jack nodded, “As long as it’s not evidence, Collins. But, actually, wait a moment, I’ll follow in my car. I want to speak to the household again,” He began to walk and Hugh followed quickly, “Miss Williams confirmed the shoe you found as Phry- Miss Fisher’s, but I haven’t found any link between this and her investigation. We should explore other avenues, including ransom. Miss Fisher has never been subtle about her wealth after all.”

“You think someone targeted her for money?”

“A Hispano draws attention, Collins. Could be someone caught sight of it and assumed whoever was inside could give them an easy pay day,” he sighed, “We need assume that whoever has her will make contact to the house.”

Hugh nodded and Jack sighed, sitting down behind his desk and idly looking at the file Hugh had placed there for him.

“We also need to look for a woman; Miss Thomas,” he told his Constable, recounting his inquiries with Mrs Hammond’s neighbours and priest. He finished the story with a long sigh, trying not to think what Phryne would make of the clues presented to them.

“But that is a task for tomorrow,” he said eventually, standing once more. “Let’s go and see Mr Fisher and the household.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Your reviews/comments make my day :)


	14. Chapter 14

/// SUNDAY - Early Evening ///

Jack parked in the St Kilda drive behind Hugh in the Hispano, both of them alighted from the respective cars and walked down the small side path to Phryne’s kitchen door. Inside Dot sat at the table, her eyes closed, rosary in hand. Hugh raised a hand and knocked, and Dot looked up with a start at the sudden sound. When she saw the cause of the noise however she gave a weak smile and moved to open the door.

“Oh Hugh,” she whispered tearily.

“Dottie,” Hugh cautioned a glance to the Inspector who pointedly took an interest in the brickwork next to him. Turning back to his intended, Hugh kissed Dot sweetly. “How are you?”

“I’ve been at ends all day,” Dot admitted quietly. “Is there no news?”

Hugh’s expression softened regretfully and he shook his head, “I’m sorry Dottie.”

She nodded, trying to keep a brave face, and stepped back. “Come in. I’ll make you both some cocoa.”

They followed her inside and Hugh sat at the kitchen table. Jack paused.

“We’ve returned Miss Fisher’s motorcar. It seems there were no further clues to find.”

Dot nodded, concentrating on not crying again. Miss Fisher would be all right; she always was. And Dot had been praying for her all day just in case.

“There’s nothing to suggest her disappearance is in any way involved with her investigations,” Jack continued heavily. “If there hasn’t been a ransom demand yet I suspect perhaps tomorrow… I want you to call me the moment it happens, whether by phone or post. Even if it says not to inform the police, Miss Williams, it is very important.”

“Yes, of course Inspector.”

“Right,” he nodded, shifting awkwardly. It was strange being in Miss Fisher’s house without her here too. He didn’t like it.

“Did I hear a car?” asked a loud voice, and moments later the door swung open and Orpheus stepped into the kitchen. He saw Hugh and Jack then barked, “Well? Have you found her?”

“No, Mr Fisher we haven’t.”

“What the hell are you doing here then, we’ve told you all we can.”

“We were just returning Miss Fisher’s car, and Miss Williams is surely allowed to spend time with her beau before I take him home.”

“Home? Phryne is God knows where being held prisoner and you’re going to go home to your warm dinners and safe beds? You should be searching for her! She’s been missing all day, anything could have happened to her by now.”

Jack felt his blood begin to boil in his veins as he took in the face so like Phryne’s, but etched with distrust and anger.

“She might be drifting in the Yarra, or lying in a gutter!” Orpheus continued. “Do you even care?”

“ _Of course I care!_ ” Jack shouted suddenly at the man. “I can do nothing but care. And it would do you well to remember why it wasn’t until this morning that we knew she was gone!”

Orpheus met Jack’s fierce gaze, glare for glare. “I was just protecting her from the likes of you. I love my sister.”

“Is that right Mister Fisher? Is that why she hasn't heard from you since she was a child? You don’t love her- You don’t even know her! You only came here because you _needed_ her. Where were you when she needed someone?”

“Phryne’s never needed anyone.”

“She needed a brother! She came all the way to Australia to find the answers to her sister’s death, blaming herself all these years. She was a _child_ and you were not there for her. She came to Melbourne, and you were not there. She faced Murdoch Foyle, faced her own inevitable death and _survived_ \- she survived it all, but you weren’t there to help her. But I was; I was there for her. I was who she had to cling to as she looked over that grave, little Janey so small and Phryne utterly broken with her tears. Where were you then? Tell me. Tell me where you were that day and then look me in the eye and tell me how you love your sisters. ”

And with a great yell Orpheus Fisher launched himself across the room at the Inspector. Jack heard a crunch and felt his whole body stumble back as pain blossomed in his face. He fell into the counter, only half aware of Dot’s yell and Jane and Mr Butler rushing into the room.

Hugh held Orpheus back, but the man was by no means done.

“I didn’t know! If I had known I would have been here. I was never told Janey had been found. Aunt Prudence hasn’t spoken to me in over twenty years until today, and mother so rarely replies to any of my letters. The first I knew there had been any development at all was when I read Foyle had hanged! I loved Janey, of course I loved her. But I’ve long since lost one sister, Inspector, I can't lose another. Not now, after all this wasted time. _Please!_ ”

Jack found his footing again and rubbed at the side of his jaw where Orpheus had punched him.

“Constable, let him go.”

“Are you sure sir?”

“I’m sure.”

Hugh released Mr Fisher, who glanced around the room, red faced and watery eyed. Swallowing back any further emotions he dropped his gaze and retreated quickly from the room.

“You should arrest him again!” Dot exclaimed with surprising ferocity, and she set about finding something for the Inspector’s face.

“That won’t be necessary,” Jack ground out. “But perhaps I should leave.”

After argument from both Dot and Jane he sat instead at the table, and allowed Dot to apply some sort of cream to his cheek. Mr Butler set a strong drink and a mug cocoa before him, both of which he drank without complaint. Jane sat next to him silently, drinking a cocoa of her own and when he stood to leave she stood too and hugged him.

He was rather shocked by the gesture, and it took Jack a moment to react. Shaking off his hesitations, he returned her hug and murmured to her a soft goodnight. Then he gave Mr Butler and Dot a nod, and left with Collins, ready to take the young Constable home.

When, later that evening, Jack returned to his own house he made himself a sandwich for dinner, washed his face and went to bed. But lying in the cold sheets he could only think of one thing. That perhaps Orpheus was right. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps tomorrow they would fish Phryne’s body from the Yarra and he would never hear her voice again...

///

Monday morning saw Jack rushing late across town in his motorcar. He arrived at City South hours after the due start of his workday, his face unwashed, his hair haphazardly oiled back and his stomach growling. After spending half the night tossing and turning, shaking off nightmares of what could be happening to Phryne, he was exhausted. Sleep had found him eventually in the early hours of the morning, and as such he hadn’t so much as stirred at the shrill ring of his alarm just few short hours later.

He passed the front desk without a word, entered his office, removed his coat and hat and sat at his desk with a suppressed groan. The file Collins had put together the previous day sat staring up at him, and Jack quickly pushed it to one side. He reached into a draw and drew out a tin of biscuits his housekeeper had made and ate quickly.

There was a knock at the door and Jack looked up to see Collins standing in the doorway, holding a tray laden with a teapot, cup and saucer.

“Did you want some tea, sir?” asked the concerned Constable.

“I-” Jack sighed, “yes, thank you Collins.”

Hugh brought the tray in and sat it on one corner of the desk, “I’ve been looking into women with the name Thomas, sir. So far there hasn’t been any in the Richmond area.”

“The Reverend didn’t think she lived in Richmond,” Jack said, pouring his tea. “But I suppose it’s worth looking. Try Collingwood next, will you Collins?”

“Yes sir.”

The young man left, shutting the door behind him and Jack closed his eyes. Blindly he reached for the file on his desk. Sitting up straight and opening his eyes once more Jack read the report and statements as he continued to eat biscuits for breakfast and drink his tea. Once finished he took himself to the men’s room, and it was only when he paused to wash his hands that he saw his reflection for the first time that day.

His lip was split and a bruise had bloomed across the side of his face. No wonder Collins had been looking at him in that strange way.

Jack bent over the sink and splashed water into his face, trying to wash away the bags under his eyes, then straightened and neatened his appearance as best he could.

As he exited the bathroom he became aware of a commotion by the front desk, and he stepped around the corner to be greeted with a hysterical looking Dot holding her purse firmly out of the reach of Orpheus Fisher as Hugh stood between them.

“Give it here!” the man was demanding. “You need to show him the note!”

“No,” Dorothy insisted, “I’m giving this straight to Inspector Robinson and no one else.”

“Miss Williams?”

Three sets of eyes rounded on Jack. Dot rushed forward, “Inspector! This came in with the letters today,” and she reached a gloved hand into her purse, pulling out an envelope with Miss Fisher’s address printed across the front.

It had been opened at one end, and taking it from Miss Williams’ hand Jack reached his fingers in and pulled out a piece of paper.

‘ _How does it feel?_ ’ asked the note, tauntingly.

“It came with this,” Dot added, and she held out her hand to show him an earring. “It’s Miss Fisher’s.”

Jack stared at it, then let his eyes flick back to the note.

“Collins, I want you to find that woman from the Hammond case,” he barked suddenly, turning on his heel and moving into his office.

Orpheus followed quick on his heel, just as Phryne had done so many times, and watched as Jack searched madly through papers on his desk.

“What does Hammond have to do with my sister’s disappearance?” Mr Fisher demanded.

“This,” Jack said brandishing the note, “I have seen this handwriting before. Someone delivered a note just like this to Mrs Hammond’s door yesterday and I need to- Ah!” He found the file containing Mrs Hammond’s note and money.

Clearing the desk Jack lay the two envelopes next to each other. They were the same, both cheap and small, and battered around the corners. Below that he lay the letters, also of the same paper, but that wasn’t important. Plenty of people could have bought stationary from the same place, but handwriting, that he could match definitively.

Orpheus stood next to him, the two men shoulder to shoulder, eyes desperately flicking from one page to the other.

Both notes were so short they only shared six letters in common, but pouring over them the two men agreed. These had been written by the same hand.

Jack filed them away carefully and moved to the doorway, “How’s that search going Collins?”

“Three families called Thomas living in Collingwood, sir! Two of them include unmarried women.”

“Give me names Collins, and take down their address, we’ll go to every house there is if we have to.”

“Their names are Juliette Thomas, who lives with her parents and brothers on Keele Street, and Celia Thomas who until recently lived with her late mother-”

“Maude,” Orpheus finished, his eyes wide and aghast.

Jack turned to him, “Do you know her?”

“I, yes, Inspector. That’s my Celia, that’s the girl I left behind. I- I don’t understand; why would she do this?”

“I don’t know, Mr Fisher. But I’m going to find out. Take Miss Williams home, and _stay there_ , until I contact you,” he pulled on his coat and collected his hat and pistol, “Collins with me; and bring a set of handcuffs. Come on.”

///

Poor Miss Celia Thomas’ house was a rather sore sight. The garden was weed ridden and overgrown in parts, dying in others, the front verandah seemed to be a strong storm away from falling apart, and the house itself was poorly built and rundown. Jack knocked heavily against the paint chipped front door, and waited. It took all his self control not to kick his way into the house and yell out for Phryne, and he was about to knock again when the door was pulled open.

It was answered by a small woman with her limp blonde hair escaping from the bun it had been twisted into. She, much like her house, looked old and run down. Her sickly thin frame was draped in a threadbare dress that had been very poorly taken in, her face was sunken and there were deep bags under eyes. She looked between Jack standing tall in his suit, and Collins behind him. Jack wondered if she would run. How far would she get, he wondered?

“Are you Celia Thomas?” he asked.

“Yes,” Celia snapped, her voice rough and angry, “and what the hell do you want, copper?”

“Miss Thomas you are under arrest,” Jack began and Hugh stepped forward, cuffs in hand, taking Celia’s wrists and locking them together, “for the murder of Mr Francis Hammond, and the kidnap of Miss Phryne Fisher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!


	15. Chapter 15

/// MONDAY - Mid Morning ///

“Collins, read Miss Thomas her rights and take her to the car while I search the building.”

“Yes sir,” Hugh nodded and he took Celia by the arm, leading her away firmly. She twisted in his grasp, yelling out.

“I didn’t do nothing you filthy copper! You stay outta my house!”

Jack simply ignored her, stepping into the building and wrinkling his nose. The carpet was moth eaten, and already Jack could smell the mould in the walls, the thick layer of dust on every surface and something rotten coming from the kitchen.

“Phryne?!” he called out, stepping into the front room first. A vase of dead flowers sat on a wobbly table, and a sickly sweet perfume of some kind had been sprayed in the air in an effort to mask the smell of the house.

He moved to the dining room next, empty and dark, then the kitchen, completely putrid but also empty. The next room must have been the late Mrs Thomas’s. The bed was made and the room itself was generally tidy, but it too held no sign of Phryne.

One room left at the back of the house, and Jack stepped across the hall toward it. When he reached a hand out to open the door however, he found it locked.

“Phryne?” he called, “Phryne are you in there? Are you alright?” No response. “Phryne!”

Taking a deep breath Jack called through the door, “Phryne, step back I’m going to kick the door in.”

He took a step back as well and squared himself before -with concentrated effort- he raised his foot and kicked firmly at the door. It gave way under his force and fell open, letting Jack rush in, his heart pounding in his ears.

He looked around quickly, his eyes taking in the bed in one corner, and the small window on the wall opposite. But other than the furniture the room was empty. Phryne wasn’t here.

“Damn!”

He marched outside and moved straight to the car, pulling open the door to lean inside. “Where is she?!” he demanded angrily.

“I told you I didn’t kidnap no-one,” Celia replied. “And I didn’t kill no-one, neither.”

Growling his frustration Jack straightened up and slammed the car door.

“Collins,” he barked. “Take Miss Thomas back to Russell Street and process her. Then come back here, I’m going to search the house for evidence.”

He stalked away back inside.

///

The Fisher woman was asleep on the bed. Good. Taking care to be quiet, Stanley stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He hadn’t bothered to give her anything to eat last night, but it wouldn’t do him any good if she died here. Not yet at least.

He placed the jug of water and the roll of bread on the floor and was about to shake her awake when he saw she’d slipped her hands free of his rope.

Stanley cursed, the bitch had already tried to put up a fight, he didn’t want to deal with more. Slipping from the room -and locking the door firmly behind him- Stanley went in search of more rope. He found a long coil in the shed outside and cut it into two pieces before heading back to the house.

She was still sleeping when he stepped back into the room, and this time Stanley locked himself in as well, tucking the key in his pocket. Stalking across the room he picked up her wrists and began to wind the rope around each one, binding them together. She stirred and her arms jerked away, but he doubled his grip and tightened the rope, looping again and again before tying the knot. There, he thought, let’s see her get out of that.

He dropped her wrists without a care and she stirred again, her eyes starting to flutter open.

“What?” she mumbled blearily. “Where, I-”

Stanley watched as her gaze found the fresh (and hopefully painful) binding on her wrists and her eyes opened wide. She shot up, sitting in the bed and meeting him square in the eye. He smiled at her.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher,” he grinned.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Stanley just smiled, trailing his hands down her legs until he reached her feet. She squirmed under his touch, kicking out her legs and only just missing his crotch with her stocking clad foot as he grabbed her ankle and held it firmly.

“Oh,” he said vaguely, “I’m just an old friend.”

He pulled her ankle to meet the other and held them firmly together with a large hand so he could grab his second piece of rope.

Phryne kicked, trying to pull away, to disrupt him as he began to wind the second rope around her ankles.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, twisting and jerking on the bed. But he was stronger than she was, and after a near miss of her feet to his face he twisted her legs until she had no choice but to roll onto her stomach for fear of breaking a bone. From there he swiftly climbed up onto the bed and maneuvered himself to sit on her back, still holding her feet, her legs bent back at the knee.

She squirmed, helpless beneath him, her bound hands trapped under her stomach, her chest compressing uncomfortably under his weight. Still she tried to pull her feet from his grasp, but the ropes were tight and rubbing painfully against her skin, and his grip too strong.

He tied his final knot and let go. The moment he climbed off, Phryne rolled onto her back, ready to push herself up and... _something_. Anything to get her away from this place. Stanley turned around to see her glaring daggers up at him, her chest heaving with her every breath.

“You jus’ don’t stop, do ya?” he asked. And without a second thought he raised his right hand up to his shoulder and swung it down, hitting her square across the face. She fell back into the mattress from the force of it and he grinned, “Eat ya breakfast, Miss Fisher.”

///

By the time Collins returned to Miss Thomas’ house on Otter Street Jack had searched almost every room. There wasn’t a lot to find in any of them, but what he had found spelt Miss Thomas’ certain fate.

“Do you really think she’s the one who did it, Inspector?” Hugh asked as they returned to the car, carrying a single box of evidence.

“I do,” Jack nodded. “Why? Do you doubt the evidence, Collins?”

Hugh flushed slightly and swallowed before hesitantly saying, “It’s just… She looks so weak, sir.”

“Hammond was shot. You don’t need to be strong to pull a trigger.”

“And Miss Fisher, sir? Surely she could overpower Miss Thomas?”

Jack considered this. The women were about the same height and both rather slim. But he knew from experience Phryne could hold her own; had seen her come out on top of men twice her size. And Miss Thomas was older than Phryne too, not at all strong or capable by the looks of her, she was almost frail -until you got her angry it seemed. Which would make her seem an unlikely threat, and easier to get under Phryne’s defenses.

“She could have surprised her Collins, or drugged her. No one would notice a woman helping an infirm lady into a car.”

At that Hugh nodded. It seemed true enough. Jack himself just sighed. They hadn’t found a trace of Phryne at the house, not even the slightest sign someone had been held there at all. But where else could she be?

An image flashed in his mind’s eye, a broken body lying limp in an alleyway, short black hair covering sightless blue eyes.

Shaking that thought away he cleared his throat. They needed to get Celia Thomas talking, and to do that they needed to get back to the station.

///

Roughly an hour later he sat opposite her in the interview room, his back straight and his breathing consciously even. She was slouched in her chair, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest.

“Tell me about Francis Hammond,” Jack said.

“What about ‘im?”

“Let’s start with how you know him and his family.”

Celia shrugged, “I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about, copper.”

“I have a witness who saw you go to the Hammond’s front door yesterday. What were you doing?”

“Nothin’. He just went to my church, and yesterday the Reverend says Mr Hammond’s dead and how ‘is kids will need our kindness to get by. I’m a kindly woman, copper, so I went to offer my sympathy to his family, but they weren’t there.”

Jack nodded. “What do you know about Mr Hammond’s business dealings?”

“I told ya, I didn’t know ‘him. He just went to my church.”

“So how do you explain his paperwork in your house?” On the other side of the table Celia froze, and Jack smirked slightly, standing up and poking his head out the door.

When he stepped back toward the table Hugh followed him in, carrying a box. He set it down and stood back in the corner. Celia blinked, her eyes flickering to the box then back to the Inspector.

Jack licked his thumb and began to pull out clipped together pieces of paper, laying them flat on the table for Miss Thomas to see.

“Every single one of these,” he said, “was reported to be missing by Mr Hammond’s business partner after someone searched their offices. And every single one of these files, Miss Thomas, is correspondence, planning, and drafting plans between their business, and a Sydney based business, Fisher Furniture. I found these in your bedroom, in your house.”

Celia uncrossed her arms slowly, looking down at the evidence before her. Jack continued.

“I also found, in your mother’s writing desk, a set of stationary matching a letter hand delivered to Mrs Hammond’s house yesterday,” he placed two alike envelopes on the table, one blank and torn open, the other unused. “Now I know it’s fairly reasonable to conceive anyone could have the same set of letter paper, but this envelope contained a note, Miss Thomas.”

Celia glanced up meeting Jack’s eye. “You can’t prove a thing,” she whispered,

“You’re right, anyone could have written this,” Jack placed the letter on the top of the growing pile of papers, “but whoever did also took to writing in your rather sparse diary.”

Jack fought the urge to grin, and instead looked collectedly across the table at Miss Thomas. Careful to keep his tone even Jack said, “You murdered Francis Hammond, and then you tried to implicate Orpheus Fisher. Why?”

Celia scowled, pushing the paperwork roughly away from her so it scattered across the table and fell to the floor.

“He deserved it.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, “Hammond or Fisher?”

“Fisher! Coming here after all this time, stirring up the rumours again. Going around my old street where people know me, with his fancy suit and his title and his rotten father's money tucked into his pockets. Bastards, all of ‘em are, those Fishers.”

“Why is that, Miss Thomas?””

“Orphie Fisher ruined my life. And did he or any his family care at all? Not for a fuckin’ second,” she smirked then, her eyes glazing over with mischief. “Seemed only right to ruin ‘is right back.”

Jack looked over to Hugh saw him taking notes, then turned back to his suspect. “By framing him for the murder of Francis Hammond?”

“Look I didn't know, ‘right, about Hammond and his family. I didn’t know he had a missus and kids.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“What happened, was that bastard Fisher was asking questions!” Celia exploded. “I spent my entire life trying to live off the shame of what he did to me. No one wants to mix with the unmarried tart who got herself knocked up, copper. No one wants her ‘round; not even him. He ran off to Sydney, didn’t even offer to make things right, or to take me with ‘im. I got stuck ‘ere, no money to spare and everyone looking down their nose at me.”

“What happened to the baby?”

“It died, and I didn’t even get to see ‘er! But it didn’t matter. They all knew. And who’ll marry used goods, huh? And those Fishers, do they try help me? Do they stick up for me when half’a Collingwood’s rubbin’ my name through the mud? Nup, they just shut up and get on with their lives. Some cousin leaves ‘em in riches and off they swan to England, no thought for me. Not even though we helped ‘em look for their Janey.”

“What were you doing on Sunday last?”

“I was at church.”

“And after that?”

“I went outside, and I saw Orphie there, waiting for somethin’,” Celia’s hands curled into fists on the table. “I hid back and watched Hammond go over and talk to him.”

“Did you follow them?”

“No.”

“So how did you come to be at H.A. Windows and Glass?”

“I looked it up, didn’t I? Heard ‘em talking about signing some deal and thought I might cause Orphie a bit of trouble and he’d run off back north and leave me be. When I got there though, the doors were open so I just walked in and Hammond was sayin’ how he had some champagne to celebrate their deal, and how rich it’d make ‘em all. And I heard ‘em leaving, so I hid, but when I come outta my hidin’ spot Hammond was still there.”

“What did you do?”

“Told him Orpheus was a bastard and if he wanted to save himself some trouble he’d send him packing. But he wouldn’t listen to me, he wouldn’t believe a word I was saying, starting telling me he’d call the jacks on me for trespassin’ and-”

“And?”

“And I saw his gun, in a drawer. And I grabbed it, and I shot him. Then I thought there’s no way Orphie could prove it wasn’t ‘im, and it would serve him fuckin’ right to take the fall.”

Jack nodded. He could hear Hugh scribbling madly behind him, and cleared his throat. “Well then, Miss Thomas, now I have that clear why don’t you tell me about Phryne Fisher?”

Celia glared, “She was a nosey little brat, even when she’was five. I seen her in the papers, the _lady detective_. Spoilt bitch is just as nosey as she always was, only now she charges by the hour,” she smirked at her crude choice of words. “Should’a seen her copper, when she was a Collingwood rag like me. Wasn’t so glamourous then, no fancy dresses for precious fuckin’ ‘Phryne’, with her dad so drunk he didn’t even name ‘er right, and her mum runnin’ off home to her sister every weekend. She used’ta come crying to me after Orphie first left, but she wouldn’t look twice at me now would she copper?”

“Is that why you abducted her?”

Celia Thomas grinned and leant forward to smirk right in Jack’s face, “I already told you. I don’t have her, copper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who guessed it? Anyone? I've loved reading your theories and ideas in the comments! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> -sexual assault/attempted rape  
> -strong violence
> 
> If these things are triggering for you please skip this chapter. And if you'd like you can message me, I am happy to give you a recount of other important plot developments in this chapter.

/// Monday - Midday ///

It was a strange day in Wardlow. Jane had stayed home from school at Orpheus’ insistence. He sat with her now in the parlour with a game of draughts set out before them, but neither really had the proper frame of mind to concentrate on the game. They moved pieces absently, taking no notice of who was winning as they tried to ignore the beads of Dot’s rosary clicking together as she said another prayer.

The phone rang, and the three of them looked up sharply, watching with bated breath as Mr Butler moved to the entrance way and answered.

He listened for a moment, then lowered the receiver to one side and walked to the doorway.

“The Inspector is on the phone for you, sir.”

Orpheus swallowed. “Thank you, Mr Butler.”

He stood and moved out to take the call. Jane stared after him and Dot quickly moved across the room to sit with the girl, taking her hand.

“Orpheus Fisher speaking,” Orpheus said as he took the phone. “There is? ... But the note, this morning- What do you mean she didn’t write it?! It was in her handwriting! ... How can she- … So what have you done? … Right, yes. Very well then. Thank you for letting me know. … I will. … Goodday Inspector,” he hung up.

“Did they find her?”

Orpheus looked over at Jane, her hand clutched tightly in Dot’s, and shook his head. “They arrested Celia for the murder. But there’s no sign of Phryne. The Inspector doesn’t believe she was at the house at all and Celia is denying she knows anything about it.”

“But then,” Jane asked, “who has her? Who sent the note?”

Orpheus sighed. “ _How does it feel_ ,” he murmured aloud.

“What?” asked Jane.

“The ransom note, that is what it said. _How does it feel_.”

“But then it wasn’t a ransom,” Jane said, and her brow furrowed, “it was trying to taunt us. Which would mean...this is about one of us, not Miss Phryne at all. They don’t want money, they took her to-”

“Make me suffer by getting to my sister,” Orpheus spoke over her.

He frowned a moment, considering this and thinking hard. Who in Melbourne, if not Celia, would want to hurt him like this after all this time?

“Dorothy?”

“Yes, Mister Jack?”

“Could you bring me the telephone directory, please?”

///

A door slammed shut and heavy footsteps marched somewhere in the house. Phryne, who had been trying in vain to undo the knot around her ankles, looked up. She had heard the car pulling back into the drive, but thought it must have belonged to a neighbour. Her captor had left barely half an hour ago and she’d been hoping to have undone his bindings -again- by the time he came back.

The key on the lock gave her another surprise, and the door to the room swung open to reveal her captor, red faced and furious.

“This is all your fucking fault!” he yelled at her. “If you had kept your fucking nose outta it, this never would have happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your fucking brother! It should be him rottin’ in gaol, should be him they send to the noose, and you fucking got him off didn’t ya? What you do, huh? No way they coulda proved it weren’t him, no fucking way. You musta bribed the cops to set him loose.”

“Orpheus hasn’t done anything.”

“Orpheus has been fucking causin’ trouble for my Celia, already ruined her life once, weren’t that enough for him? Nah, he’s back and he’s askin’ questions and making it hard for ‘er and I just went see how she’s managing and her neighbour tells me the fucking cops come and fucking arrested her for killing that bloke. It should be him they have! She don’t deserve this! Your fucking brother killed him, not my Celia. And it’s your fucking fault they let ‘im walk! You just flashed your purse at the jacks, or,” he leered suddenly, and the anger slipped away to be replaced by something more lurid.

“Maybe it was more than that. Maybe you was flashing somethin’ else for ‘em, hmm?” he swooped in close, and Phryne saw a hunger in his eye she did not want to appease.

“Yeah, that’s it, ain’t it? It’s like they always say; you can take’a tart from Collingwood...” Stanley smirked, reaching down and taking her breast in a firm hand. “He ruined my Celia’s life… Maybe I can think up a way to ruin yours.”

Phryne glared at her captor. “You’d do best to remove that hand,” she warned him icily, “before I remove it for you.”

He laughed and squeezed, pinching her painfully.

“Orpheus will be looking for me you know, him and the police.”

“They haven’t found ya yet, what makes you think they’ll find ya now?”

Phryne bit back her worry, “They won’t stop until they find me.”

Stanley grinned. “They’ll be too late,” and he began to undo his belt.

///

Orpheus Fisher poured over the directory, cursing to himself silently as he traced a finger down the page.

“Mr Butler, please get the car ready for me; I’m going to need it imminently! Miss Williams!”

“Yes?” Dot stood next to him, and Orpheus jumped, having not noticed her hovering over his shoulder. He made no effort to apologise for his loud yell, but lowered his voice when he spoke next.

“Call the Detective Inspector,” he said, “tell him I know who has Phryne, and I have the address here- somewhere- just call. Now.”

Dot rushed to the phone without question and Orpheus turned the page and ran up the stairs to Phryne’s boudoir. He found her gun by her bedside and raced down the stairs to return to the directory.

“I need to speak to the Inspector, Hugh. It’s about Miss Phryne,” Dot was saying into the telephone.

Orpheus blocked her out, scanning the page of Thomas’ and Thompsons.

_There!_

There it was, that was him. He pushed to book into Dot’s arms and pointed to a name halfway down the page, then grabbed his hat and tucked the little gun into his pocket.

“Wait!” Dot called after him, “I’m telling the Inspector; where are you going?!”

But Orpheus didn’t answer. Mr Butler had the Hispano’s engine running and waiting, and with the same grace as his sister, Orpheus pulled out onto the street and sped off through Melbourne.

“What’s the name, Miss Williams?” Jack asked urgently from the other end of the telephone line, pulling Dot back to her task.

“Oh! It’s Thomas, Inspector Robinson. Stanley Thomas.”

///

Phryne as a general rule in life, always strived to be level headed and not panic. Especially now she so often found herself in circumstances where rushing to false conclusions or making emotionally driven decisions could end with someone -and not necessarily who she’d hope- getting shot.

This rule however, had been thrown out the small boarded up window some moments ago.

Her bound wrists had been brought over her head and attached to the iron bedframe with her captor’s belt, and it was taking all her effort to fight against his wandering hands pulling at her skirt and tearing her stockings. He wasn’t deterred in the slightest by her efforts, simply laughing as if he was enjoying her struggle.

He pulled a pocket knife from his trousers and leered at her, “You stop your squirming girly, or I might just cut these pretty little ankles o’yours.”

Phryne stared at the knife, watching as her captor moved down the bed to her bound feet. The horrible truth of what he was planning to do sank into her. Stanley Thomas slipped the blade beneath the tightly wound rope that had already rubbed her ‘pretty ankles’ raw. The rope gave with a jolt and Phryne hissed, watching him cast the knife aside. He began to advance once more, crawling up the length of the bed, and thinking quickly Phryne aimed a sharp knee to the tent forming at the front of his trousers.

“Christ!” he swore, doubling over and falling on top of her in his pain. “You’ll bloody pay for that!”

He sat up grabbing her legs roughly and holding them in a firm grip, even as she kicked and struggled beneath him. “Bloody meddling bitch,” he muttered, “Keep still!”

Phryne didn’t listen, pulling and twisting her legs in his grasp until she got one foot free, and quickly kicked him in the face.

“Let me go,” she swore at him, kicking with both her legs free now as he clutched at his bleeding nose.

Stanley wiped the blood on his sleeve before taking her legs again and throwing them over each of his shoulders, pushing forward and removing all her leverage. He pressed into her, his body disgustingly close, his horrid smelling breath hot on her face. Phryne felt sick to feel him so intimately against her, but still she tried to thrash herself free from beneath him. But her movements were limited and the back of her heels pelted repeatedly into his back, unable to fight him off.

“Get off me!” she demanded, and Phryne did the only thing she still could, and spat in his face.

Stanley glowered.

“You’re too much fucking work,” he told her, and without warning his hands moved to wrap around her neck.

Phryne’s eyes bulged as her lungs fought for air. His grip was so strong, and though she had faced death before, never had it seemed so imminent.

She stared into Stanley’s eyes, into the hatred and anger burning there, and tears began to blur her vision -or was that the lack of air?- either way Phryne realised that this was the last thing she would see. With her heart thumping and breaking in her chest she closed her eyes instead, and thought of Jack. Sweet, darling Jack with his kind face and his soft eyes. His bright smile that warmed her inside and out, and Jane. Jane once again without a parent. But Dot would see her looked after, and Orpheus had taken so well to her.

Oh Orpheus. And Janey, would she see her again?

Her lungs screamed but her mind wavered, starved of the fuel it needed. Thinking helplessly of her family, Phryne began to fade.

///

A gunshot tore through the silence.

Stanley Thomas jumped, his grip loosening as he turned toward the source of the noise. Orpheus Fisher stood in the doorway, pearl handled pistol pointed straight ahead.

“Get off her,” he ground out. Next to him his free hand had curled into such a tight fist he could feel the bite of his nails breaking the flesh of his palm.

“Why should I?” Stanley argued, “You’ve as good as killed my sister, why should I spare yours?”

Without a moment’s pause Orpheus cocked the gun once more, “Don’t test me!” he hissed dangerously at the other man.

Slowly Stanley let go of Phryne, and he held his hands over his head as he climbed from her still form and back to the floor. Orpheus followed him with the gun, then once Stanley was far enough away from the bed, he cautioned a glance toward his sister.

Seeing his chance, Stanley lunged. Another shot rang out.

Orpheus lowered the weapon, watching Stanley as he stumbled back into the wall, and slumped to the floor, blood staining his shirt as it poured from the wound to his abdomen.

“Orpheus?”

Both men turned to the bed, Stanley swearing at the pain the sudden movement had caused. Phryne lay still and weak, her voice horribly hoarse, but awake.

“Phryne,” Orpheus strode to her, sitting on the mattress and taking in the sight of his sister, still tied helplessly to the bed, her skirt hitched up well beyond decency and her stockings torn from her garters.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

With Stanley incapacitated against the wall, Orpheus tucked Phryne’s little golden gun away and picked up the discarded knife Stanley had used on the ropes earlier. As carefully as he could Orpheus leant across his sister and slipped the knife beneath the tight knot binding her wrists and cut her free.

She brought her arms down to her sides stiffly, pushing herself to sit up and adjusted her clothes, not looking at Orpheus as she did so.

“Can you walk?”

Mutely, Phryne nodded. She slid her feet over the edge of the mattress and Orpheus stood close by as she stood. The ruined stockings slipped down her legs, and after a moment of staring down at them, Phryne let them slip free completely and fall to the floor. They were torn in more than one place, even Dot would struggle to repair them.

Stepping from the silk Phryne reached out, taking Orpheus by the hand for balance. He waited patiently and squeezed her hand in comfort. She was shaking Phryne realised suddenly, really shaking.

“I-”

“Shh, it’s all right. You don’t need to say anything,” Orpheus murmured, hearing how raw her voice was. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her silently from the hell of that room, pausing only so he could close the door and turn the key that had, in Stanley’s earlier haste, been left in the lock.

“You’re safe now, Phryne. I’ve got you. And Dorothy’s called for your Inspector. You’re going to be all right,” Orpheus assured her, and he kept them walking until he reached her Hispano parked haphazardly at the side of the street.

Tears once again falling from her eyes, Phryne just nodded. They climbed into the back of the car, and Orpheus pulled the thick blanket around her small frame, gathering her up in it’s warmth and pulling her into his lap. He kissed the top of her head, feeling the adrenaline that had kept him his cool beginning to fade away. “You’re safe now.”

Phryne nodded, and whispered raspily into his neck, “I know Orphie.”

And, curled into her big brother’s embrace, Phryne closed her eyes and felt the horrors of the world just melt away.

Orpheus had always given the best of hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry guys, there's still more to come.... :P


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a day early because I will be away tomorrow. Enjoy!

/// MONDAY - Early Afternoon ///

Three police cars raced towards Richmond’s north to the address of one Stanley Thomas, and from them rushed several men all headed toward the house with guns and batons in hand. Two of the men however, ignored the destination of the others and ran instead for the bright red car parked at the side of the street.

“Phryne?!”

For the first time since settling in her brother’s lap twenty minutes ago, Phryne opened her eyes.

“Jack,” she breathed, wincing as her throat ached.

The Inspector gaped at her. A bruise bloomed on the side of her face rather matching his own, and there were more still that were just beginning to form along her neck in the unmistakable form of fingers. But what he noticed more than anything were her eyes. They were terribly bloodshot, the whites such an alarming shade of red. What had happened to her?

He paled but reached for her all the same, needing to touch her, to hold her and know she was safe. Jack climbed into the back seat of the car and Phryne slid from her brother’s arms into Jack’s. She looked at him curiously, and raised her hand to trace her fingers lightly across his cheek.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered.

Jack swallowed. “Uh, yes. A uh, earlier suspect didn’t take kindly to my accusations.”

That was mostly true. And from over Phryne’s shoulder Jack saw Orpheus nod his thanks at the aversion of finer details.

“We should get you to hospital, Phryne.”

“No, I don’t need-” she swallowed thickly and painfully, “I’m fine Jack. I just want to go _home_.”

“Phryne,” Jack argued softly, “you’ve been- I would feel better if I knew for certain you were-”

“At least let us call that woman doctor friend of yours, Phryne,” Orpheus cut in. “A compromise.”

Phryne looked carefully between them, “No hospitals?” she rasped.

“No hospitals,” Orpheus confirmed.

They waited, and after careful consideration Phryne nodded. Then she closed her eyes once more and curled back into Jack’s chest. He was warm and soothingly familiar, and she was -she silently admitted- very worn out and in need of a little comfort.

“Collins,” Hugh, who had been standing a short distance away to give the Inspector and Miss Fisher a small amount of privacy stepped forward. “Go inside and call Dr Macmillan to meet us at Miss Fisher’s house,” Jack told his Constable.

“Yes sir,” Hugh nodded, and no sooner had he left them then another Constable appeared. It was Constable Wallace, and he approached the car ready to report to the Detective Inspector.

If the sight of Miss Fisher curled in his superior's lap startled Wallace he didn't show it, and for that Jack was very grateful.

“The suspect has been apprehended,” Wallace informed him. “But he’s been shot sir, we’ve had to call for an ambulance. It seems he’s already lost a lot of blood.”

Jack glanced at Orpheus who looked right back, challenging the Inspector to say something against his tactics

Jack gave in and looked away, “Thank you Constable Wallace. I will be returning Miss Fisher to her home momentarily, please send Collins with any updates.”

“Yes sir.”

The Constable walked away and Jack turned to Orpheus. “Perhaps, Mr Fisher, you would like to drive?”

Orpheus nodded and stepped out of the back of the car to move to the driver’s seat. He started the engine with a roar, and taking care of Phryne in the back, pulled gently onto the street.

///

Mac stepped out of Phryne’s boudoir to find Orpheus and Jack waiting anxiously in the hallway, and knew with no doubt that Jane was hidden around the corner too, almost certainly with Dot. Sighing she led them all downstairs to the kitchen where she could address the entire household and get a drink, and perhaps some lunch.

“Well?” Orpheus demanded after a moment, his patience worn through.

“She will be fine. She’s dehydrated and hungry, may I suggest you take her some soup and bread with a large glass of water, Mr Butler? Otherwise she has minor abrasions and some bruising. I’ve bandaged her wrists and ankles as a precaution to prevent infection, and I’ve left her an ointment as well.”

“And her eyes? How on earth did they...” Jack broke away mid-question. The shade of red the whites of Phryne’s eyes had gone was a disturbing sight, and it worried him.

Mac met his gaze calculatedly, she had been hoping to avoid some specifics while Jane was in the room, but supposed they would find out one way or another what had happened.

“That would be caused from being strangled,” Mac told him evenly. “They will fade back to white after a week or so.”

Jack swallowed uncomfortably and nodded. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, but do let her rest. I doubt she had much chance to over the last few days.”

The telephone rang then, and Mr Butler excused himself to answer it. When he returned he looked to Jack.

“Constable Collins on the phone for you, Inspector.”

Jack walked out to take it and silence fell over the room as they waited. Mr Butler placed a glass of whiskey before Orpheus and Mac, and a sherry in front of Dot. Jane looked up, and the older man smiled kindly at her and set about making the girl a cocoa.

The Inspector returned. “Stanley Thomas has been taken for surgery,” he said to the room. Mr Butler poured another glass of whiskey and offered it. Jack took the glass and swallowed its contents in one. “Thank you, Mr Butler.”

“Might I enquire, sir, if anyone has informed Mrs Stanley of her niece’s return?” asked the older man. Jack balked, raising his eyebrows slightly. He hadn’t given Phryne’s aunt a thought. They had arrived here, and he had taken Phryne straight to her room, tucking her into bed as Orpheus tried to calm Jane and Dot.

Mac had arrived shortly thereafter and promptly kicked him out so she could assess her patient in privacy, and Jack had paced until the doctor had reemerged just minutes ago.

“I haven’t contacted her,” he admitted after a moment, then turned to Orpheus.

“Neither have I. Miss Williams, did you perhaps think to...?”

“I was waiting for Doctor Macmillan,” Dot said.

They all looked between each other, realising how furious Prudence would be if she found out they hadn’t contacted her immediately. Dorothy stood.

“I will just-”

But at that moment knocking sounded at the door, continuing insistently, and Mr Butler moved to answer it. They heard the door open and then a familiar and booming voice call, “ _Where is she?!_ ”

Prudence Stanley had arrived.

Jack walked through the dining room to the front hall once more. “Mrs Stanley, we were just about to call you,” he told her.

“Your Constable already rang me, Inspector. He said you and Orpheus were bringing Phryne home.”

“And so we have, Doctor Macmillan has just seen her. She’s upstairs, resting.”

Prudence nodded, and without another word she marched up the stairs toward Phryne’s bedroom. Jack looked after her, hoping Phryne would be up to such a visit. A few moments he heard a small scream. Aunt Prudence was clearly taken aback by her niece’s appearance.

Jack gave a short sigh, and decided it would probably be best if he at least tried to calm Phryne’s brusque aunt. As he began to climb the stairs he heard the older woman continue to wail with shock.

“Oh _Phryne!_ ”

///

Night fell in Melbourne to find Phryne in the bath. She had been given instructions not to dampen the bandages on her ankles or wrists which made the task a challenging one, but she was determined to wash every inch of that place from her as thoroughly as possible. Jack knelt on the ground next to her, his jacket discarded across the foot of her bed, his tie tucked into his pocket and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

In his hand he held a wash cloth, and he took his time to gently run it over her and wash the last few days from her skin.

Phryne closed her eyes, resting her head back into the porcelain. Her legs were extended to rest on the opposite edge of the bath, out of the water, and her arms were draped laxly over each side. The soapy cloth brushed across her skin in soothing circular motions, dipping occasionally into the warm water, every movement just as delicate and deliberate as the last. Phryne hummed at the pleasant sensation, and briefly considered that perhaps it wasn’t all so bad that she was unable to wash herself.

She never thought she could have this. That she could be so contented and happy to just lay in silence with a man, feeling his presence and enjoying the touch of his body against hers without needing to think about complicated things like sex or love. They could just be and it was exhilarating.

“What are you thinking about?” Jack asked, watching her smile to herself as he shifted and began to wash the tops of her legs.

Phryne thought before answering, taking a slow breath in and back out again. “How wonderful you are,” she whispered, her voice was returning to its usual tones but the rasp was still there. “How wonderful this is.”

“Being bathed?”

“Mm, yes,” she smiled further. “I’ve never felt so comfortable as to allow someone else to do such a thing for me. I can look after myself.”

Jack nodded in understanding, “I’m glad to be able to do this for you,” he told her softly.

Phryne nodded, “Yes, I don’t believe it would be quite so enjoyable if I’d asked Dot.”

“I imagine not,” he chuckled.

He moved the cloth over her knees then dipped it back into the scented water before moving to her calves. The comfortable silence fell back over them, and Jack continued to wash Phryne’s legs, being mindful of her bandages, and then the soles of her feet. She continued to smile and sigh serenely until she was clean and Jack wrung out the cloth and placed it over the edge of the bath.

She opened her heavy eyes and blinked at him sleepily. Getting out of this bath was going to be just as awkward as getting in it had been.

Hands placed on either side of the porcelain, Phryne sat up and water ran down her chest in a small wave. With some careful effort she slid her legs along the edge of the bath and turned her body so she sat in it sideways, her legs draped over one side at the knee, her arms moving outstretched in the cool air.

Jack dried his hands and then clasped them around hers, hoisting her up so she could find her footing and stand before him, ready to be wrapped in a large and warm towel.

She dried herself and found a robe to pull onto her bare form as Jack prepared to take his turn in her bath water. He stripped as she watched and lowered himself into the tub, washing quickly and efficiently before climbing out once more and reaching for a towel of his own.

“And what now?” she asked as he dried himself.

“Now we sleep,” he reached for the pair of his pyjamas Mr Butler had laid out for him and pulled them on before padding over to the bed and climbing in.

Phryne discarded her robe and pulled a silk night dress over her head, then both settled under the covers before she leant across and turned out the lights.

In the darkness their bodies sought out each other immediately, curling together familiarly, slotted into one another like two pieces of a puzzle. Phryne held him tight, reminding herself this was real and she was really home once more and in Jack’s arms.

And Jack too sought reassurance in her touch, needing to feel for himself that she was safe. His hand slid across her lower back, and hers moved across his heart. She breathed him in and he shifted, pulling her closer. Her leg fell between his, and her cold fingers found the collar of his pyjama shirt, then dipped beneath it to his collarbone. He pressed his nose to her fringe and she kissed his neck.

“Phryne,” he whispered..

“Jack,” she replied.

“Phryne I…” he swallowed and his adam's apple bobbed against her lips. “I...”

She sighed, her breath warm against his skin and slowly she nodded.

“I know,” she told him.

He kissed her forehead, unable to stop the tears forming in his eyes. He hadn’t asked her yet, to tell him what had happened. She’d spoken to Mac, and Mac had spoken briefly to him, but he didn’t know it all. Not from her perspective. Collins wouldn’t be taking her statement until tomorrow. All Jack knew was that seeing those marks on her neck had terrified him, and the question of what she had been through would linger until he knew.

“I love you.”

The confession hung in the air for a moment, and both of them lay still as they let it settle over them. After a moment, just before worry or regret could start to seep in, the words were repeated on a whisper.

“I love you too.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: Mentions of sexual assault and violence. Descriptions of injuries.

/// TUESDAY - Morning ///

Phryne stared at her reflection. It was worse in the light of the morning she thought. The bruises seemed more pronounced. Had they darkened over night, she wondered, or had she simply not paid them proper attention yesterday? Perhaps she’d just been too preoccupied by the red of her eyes; it was a particularly unpleasant sight.

She sighed, touching her fingers tentatively to the marks on her neck. They would fade, she knew, but for now she faced the task of masking them under makeup, and perhaps a scarf.

Dot walked in with a tray of coffee and sat it down on the vanity in front of her. “Did you want some help, Miss?” she asked, her gaze full of concern as she looked at the purple bruises.

“I should manage,” Phryne replied, and she smiled, hoping to put her companion at ease.

“Hugh is downstairs. He wants to take your statement. And I think he might need photographs?”

The idea of photos did not appeal to Phryne at all. The last thing she wanted was a permanent documentation of these injuries for people to stare at.

“Then perhaps I needn’t bother with all this,” Phryne sighed. “Find me something to wear, Dot? And a scarf to match.”

Dot nodded and Phryne drank her coffee and picked up her brush to run through her hair as she waited. When Dot returned she dressed quickly, then draped the scarf carefully around her neck to hide the worst of the bruises. With a deep breath she stepped from her bedroom and made her way downstairs.

Hugh stood in the kitchen, he held a cup of tea in front of him, and he was talking idly with Mr Butler over the improvement in the recipe for drop scones he had made. Jack sat silently at the table with Orpheus, both eating and reading from different sections of the paper.

“Good morning,” she smiled, trying to sound cheerful but not quite achieving it.

The four men all stopped and looked at her. Mr Butler recovered first, wishing his employer a good morning before he returned to his washing of the cutlery. Jack managed an encouraging smile and Orpheus stood, offering his chair to her.

“Thank you,” Phryne sat. There was a pad of paper topped with a fountain pen sitting before her at the table, clearly awaiting her written statement. “Shall we just get this out of the way quickly?”

“I, uh. Yes, if that’s what you’d like, Miss Fisher,” Hugh stuttered.

“Please.”

Without word Mr Butler moved from the room and Orpheus reached out, squeezing his sister’s shoulder momentarily before following.

Jack stayed, and Phryne found his fingers under the table. Hugh placed his teacup back in its saucer and pulled a notebook from his pocket, licking his pencil before clearing his throat and asking his first question.

Phryne recounted the experience in detail, never once letting her voice waver or her emotions get the better of her. She just squeezed Jack’s hand and stared directly ahead, speaking clearly and calmly as she answered each question. Then she wrote it all down, Jack’s hand on her knee.

When she was done she signed the bottom of the page and Hugh produced a police issue camera. He took a photo of her injured wrists and ankles, her bared neck and the bruising to her face.

“Is that all you need?” Phryne asked, adamantly forcing back tears as she wound her scarf back in place.

“Yes, Miss. That’s all.”

“Is there any further news about Mr Thomas?”

“He’s still at the hospital Miss, under guard. He’ll be moved to the station as soon as the doctors say it’s safe.”

She nodded, then quietly excused herself and left.

Jack watched her go, knowing she would need a few moments to herself. He could hear her begin to climb the stairs and he turned to his Constable, taking the time to get a full and thorough update. Eventually though he could wait no longer, and dismissing Collins with a grateful nod, he followed Phryne through the house and up the stairs.

He found her in her boudoir. She was sitting slumped over at her vanity, her face cradled in her hands as quietly she sobbed.

Phryne did not cry easily, Jack knew, and he closed the door gently behind him before walking across the room to place a hand on her shoulder.

She started at the touch, and looked up sharply, catching sight of his reflection.

Tears lingered in her eyes as she met his gaze, and wordlessly she turned to face him. Jack reached into his pocket to produce a handkerchief. He wiped away her tears with a gentle hand, then cupped the uninjured side of her face and bent slowly to kiss her.

Phryne kissed him back, her hands reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. They parted to breathe and Phryne sniffed slightly, then stood, her hands slipping to his chest.

Jack watched her carefully, unable meet her lowered gaze.

She began to pull at the knot of his tie, pulling it loose as he stood patiently and watched her. Dropping the strip of fabric to the floor, Phryne started on his buttons next, undoing his collar and his shirt until she met the top of his waistcoat. Jack let her push his jacket from his shoulders, and he undid the buttons on his waistcoat in time for her to push that off too.

His braces were next, unsnapped from his trousers and discarded to the floor as her hands returned to the buttons of his shirt. She untucked the garment and drew his cufflinks from their place before stripping that from him too. Underneath it Jack wore a singlet, and he quickly pulled it over his head revealing his bare chest to her.

Phryne paused.

She ran her hands over his stomach and across his chest, her fingers lightly scratching at his skin. Jack shuddered, waiting for her next move.

Stepping closer, Phryne’s arms slid to wind themselves around Jack’s waist, and she pressed her cheek over his heart, listening to its beat for a moment. His arms folded over her in turn, holding her close and running soothingly over her back.

With a slow breath in and out Phryne stepped back, reaching for the hem of her own blouse and pulled it over her head.

Jack’s gaze never left hers as she removed the scarf next, then her camisole, leaving her just as barechested as he. Her hands moved to the fastening of her trousers, and Jack swallowed but stood patiently as she pulled them undone and let them fall down her legs.

She dropped her gaze then, bending to pull her feet from the garment, unbuckling her shoes afterward, and shrinking two inches as she stepped from them.

Straightening and looking up at Jack once more, Phryne stood before him in just her knickers and stockings. He swallowed.

He didn’t quite know what to make of this. After all he had just heard, all she had been through, this was… this was the last thing he had expected to happen when he followed her into her room. But she stood before him so earnestly now. Her cheeks tear stained bruised and red from crying, but her eyes now dry and open and honest. She was waiting, for what? For him to turn her away in disgust at the touch of another man on her body? Or the marks of the torture she had suffered at Thomas’ hand?

No. Jack set his jaw firmly, taking in the sight of her standing in her underwear before him. Never before had she been this vulnerable, he thought. And he would never break that trust. Slowly and carefully he offered a hand to her.

Phryne took it, and Jack squeezed her fingers, lifting them to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Phryne stepped close once more, Jack’s hands finding her waist as he dipped his head and kissed her sweetly. “What do you want, Phryne?” he asked, eyes searching her face carefully.

“To make love to you,” she replied, “please.”

“Are you…” Jack closed his eyes, concentrating hard to prevent his emotions from ruining the atmosphere of the room around them. “Are you sure?”

Phryne nodded. “Yes.”

She pushed onto her tip toes, kissing him again, feeling his mouth open against hers and kiss her back.

She clung to him, and their movements became more desperate and passionate. Jack’s hands splayed across her back, pulling her closer as Phryne’s worked their way between their bodies to pull at the buttons of his trousers. She got them undone and Jack toed off his shoes as she pushed the trousers urgently down his legs.

He kissed her harder, Phryne’s hand stroking him to hardness as he moaned.

She pulled back, quickly pushing her knickers and stockings down her legs in one. Jack used the time to also step from his trousers and remove his own socks and underwear until they both stood naked before each other. Phryne stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his chest, walking him backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he fell to sit on the bed. She climbed over him, settling in his lap and running her fingers through his slicked back hair as she brought their lips together again.

Jack ran his hands over her thighs and up her sides until he reached her breasts. He caressed the sensitive skin, brushing his thumbs over her nipples and she hummed into his mouth, gently pushing against him until he fell back into the quilt.

She began to slide her hips over his erection, teasing her clit and moaning periodically at the sensation. Jack too groaned at the touch of her, a hand sliding to her hip to encourage her movements as the other continued to cup and squeeze her breast. Within minutes she was reaching between them, guiding him to her entrance and gliding down over his cock, their kiss breaking as they both let out a throaty hum of approval.

Phryne sat up, resting her hands on Jack’s chest, and after a moment’s pause to adjust, she began to move. She was in control, eyes closed as her hips rolled against his. Jack watched her with fervent eyes, his hands sliding up and down her thighs, then one slipping between her legs and brushing through her curls to find her clit.

He traced circles over it in time to her rolling hips, and she gasped. Her movements became faster and her fingers dug into Jack’s chest as she moved closer and closer to her peak.

She came with a cry and fell into his arms. Jack pressed a kiss to her temple, pausing to let her recover before seeking his own pleasure, but Phryne just smiled and kissed his lips, murmuring “More,” into his mouth before sitting up once again.

She rode him again, calling out with each of her thrusts, then guided Jack’s hand back between her legs.

When she came the second time she didn't fall forward, but ground against him, panting heavily with her head tilted back.

“Phryne,” Jack grunted, so close himself to release, “I need to...”

“I’m not wearing my diaphragm,” Phryne told him apologetically, “you’ll have to…”

“I don’t mind,” he groaned. “Come here.”

Phryne moved forward and leant over him, lifting her hips so he fell free from her. She supported her weight with a hand next his head, bending down to kiss him deeply as her other hand found his cock and began to stroke it firmly.

Jack groaned, squeezing her breast in one hand, and her backside with the other.

When he came it was against both their chests, and she swallowed his shout, slowing her hand gradually until he stopped shuddering beneath her.

She rolled to his left, laying on her side with her head tucked into his shoulder, and absently Jack bent his arm at the elbow to run his fingertips through her hair. They would need to get up soon, clean themselves and redress, but for now they lay, slowly letting their breath settle and their heartbeats slow.

Phryne was first to recover, if only for the protest from her bladder. She tilted her head up and pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek before unwinding herself from his arm and sitting up.

Jack watched as she stood and stretched, then rummaged through their clothes until she found his handkerchief. She used it to wipe at the semen on her stomach and breasts, and Jack opened his mouth to protest. That was his handkerchief, he needed that and she was soiling it with his… well. She began to wipe at his chest next, before Jack could find his voice to complain. He met her smile with look of frustration and a roll of his eyes.

“What do you suggest I use?” she asked, “I can hardly step into the hall with that on my chest, what if I ran into Orphie? Or Dot!”

Jack spluttered, “There is a washcloth in the bath from last night.”

Phryne’s eyes sparkled, “Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice falsely high as she teased him, “So there is. I had completely forgotten.”

“That was my only handkerchief,” Jack grumbled, sitting up. “And it hasn’t worked particularly effectively.”

His chest still felt sticky with a light smear of the white substance, and Phryne laughed. He shot her a look.

“Oh I’m sorry, Jack,” she told him. “Here.”

She moved to her bath and turned the tap, running his handkerchief under the water for a moment. Then she wrung it out before turning the stream off and moving back to the bed. Jack took the hanky from her and wiped it over his chest, it did a better job than before and reluctantly he thanked her as he handed it back.

There was a sudden knock at her door, and Orpheus called through loudly, “Phryne if you and the Inspector are quite done, our aunt is downstairs demanding to see you.”

Phryne wrinkled her nose, but grabbed her robe and wound the tie firmly around her waist. Jack barely managed to throw the side of the quilt over himself when she opened the door half a foot to speak to her brother.

“What does she want?” Phryne asked, “I thought we managed to convince her I was fine last night.”

Orpheus swallowed, “She’s heard about Celia’s arrest,” he explained, shifting nervously on the balls of his feet. “She says she has some information she thinks she ought to tell us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting so close to the end of this fic, can you believe it?!


	19. Chapter 19

/// -- 1905 -- ///

Prudence Stanley walked to her parlour with a polite smile spread across her lips. Her dear sister Margaret had come for morning tea as she always did on a Saturday, and Prudence walked in to greet her.

Her younger sister sat in her best clothes (that were actually rather faded and past their time) and next to her two little girls squirmed.

“Phryne, sit still,” Margaret pleaded with her oldest daughter.

The little girl didn’t appear to hear her, crawling on her hands and knees across the fine lounge to her little sister, pressing their faces close together and blowing a loud raspberry between her lips.

Gravel from the drive outside fell from her shoes and Margaret winced. “Phryne, please.”

“Janey wants to play,” the five year old retorted.

“And Mummy wants you both to sit still until Aunt Prudence lets you go and play. Sit up straight now and be quiet, darling.”

Phryne pouted, but she sat properly and kept quiet. Prudence noticed that the girl’s legs swung back and forth in silent defiance, but let it pass.

The maid came with tea, and Prudence allowed her nieces a biscuit each, watching them nibble at the treats with practiced reverence. She turned to her sister.

“I take it that there’s been no word from-” she paused, casting her eye to Phryne, still so delicate from the departure “- _him?_ ”

“He’s written,” Margaret whispered. “He’s a good boy Prudence, they’re working him very hard. He’s been sending us money as well, for the girls, but…”

The end of her sentence hung in the air. It didn’t need to be said; Prudence knew exactly what happened to any money that found it’s way into the Fisher’s house.

“Hmm,” she hummed her distaste. “And what about the girl?”

“Absolutely convinced he’ll send for her to join him in Sydney. The other women on our street have begun to notice, I think. They’ll figure it out soon, she won’t be able to hide her belly much longer.”

“Can’t her mother send her off somewhere quiet? Perhaps the seaside would do the girl some good.”

“They have no family to send her to,” Margaret murmured and she sipped her tea. “They can’t afford to send her to anyone else. In fact last week Mrs Thomas came to me and-”

Prudence frowned, “Yes?”

Margaret bit her lip. “Phryne darling, why don’t you take Janey and try and find Nanny Jones and the boys?”

“They’re upstairs in their room,” Prudence added hastily, hoping to draw more information from her sister. “Miss Winters will take you.”

The maid stepped from the corner with a kindly smile and held her hands out to the girls. Phryne ignored her, choosing instead to grab her small sister by the middle and carry her herself.

“Oh Phryne, do be careful,” Margaret winced, watching as the two year old slowly slipped from her sister’s arms.

Miss Winters bent down and scooped young Janey into her more stable embrace, then took Phryne by the hand and led them both away, leaving Prudence quite alone with her sister.

“What was I saying?” Margaret asked, her brow furrowed as she reached for her tea.

“Mrs Thomas came to see you.”

Margaret nodded. She looked down into her teacup, gathering her courage, and when she spoke it was in the faintest of murmurs. “She asked me to take the baby, when it’s born. She can’t afford another mouth to feed, not since her husband lost his job.”

“What did you say?”

“Well I can’t afford it either, Prudence. And Janey’s still so young. But now she’s talking about leaving the baby at an orphanage, and I can’t stand the thought of my grandchild growing up in one of those horrid places, Prudence,” she began to cry. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. We can’t take the babe in, you know what he’s like, if we had another screaming babe to feed…”

“Oh there-there, Margaret, dear,” Prudence stood and walked across the room to sit at her sister’s side. She offered a fine handkerchief, and Margaret took it, drying her eyes and quickly blowing her nose.

“I don’t know what to do, Prudence, I’m at my wit’s end.”

“Then we will figure this out, together,” Prudence assured her. “Finish your tea, there we are. Tell me, when is this babe due?”

Margaret shakily brought her teacup to her lips and drank deeply. “Not until the new year. March, or April perhaps.”

Prudence smiled to herself. “Well then,” she said matter of factly, “I may just have a solution.”

She rang the bell to the kitchen, and moments later the maid reappeared.

“Yes, Mrs Stanley?” the young woman asked. “Would you like more tea?”

“Miss Winters, tell me again what day your wedding will be,” Prudence said, abruptly ignoring the maid’s question.

Flushing slightly with excitement, Miss Winters answered neatly. “First of December, Mrs Stanley.”

“Wonderful,” Prudence said, “and are you hoping for children? You do so well I notice, with my young nieces.”

“Oh yes, Mrs Stanley,” Miss Winters nodded. “We do want children.”

Prudence smiled smugly, “Thank you, Miss Winters. That is all.”

Confused, the maid left and Margaret turned to face her sister.

“Prudence, you aren’t suggesting…”

“Well finding a nice young family to take the babe in is a better option than an orphanage, surely,” she argued. “Besides, I will be able to perhaps give the girl a small contribution for her kindness, and her discretion. And you will be able to trust the babe will be looked after.”

Margaret bit her lip. Perhaps her sister was right. Perhaps this was the better option.

“Talk to Mrs Thomas,” Prudence continued, “and suggest the idea to her. If she agrees I will put the idea to Miss Winters and her intended. This is your best choice, my dear.”

Prudence lay a hand over her sister’s, squeezing it, as slowly Margaret nodded.

“Yes,” she murmured eventually, meeting her sister’s gaze. “It seems it is. Thank you, Prudence.”

/// -- 1929 -- ///

Orpheus sat quite still, his jaw set firmly. Phryne placed her hand comfortingly over his.

“So what happened?” she asked her aunt.

“Mrs Thomas agreed to the idea and I spoke to Miss Winters and her fiance. It was arranged and fees were paid. Then, when the babe was born the next year, the midwife was paid to bring her to her new parents.”

“And tell everyone else she had died,” Orpheus said darkly. “All this time, Aunt Prudence, and you and mother both knew.”

“It was the only way.”

“I deserved to know the _truth_. Celia deserved to know the truth. A man has died, a good and innocent man, because this was kept from us both!”

Mrs Stanley was taken aback, surely whatever Miss Thomas had done did not come back to her.

“Aunt P?” Phryne asked, oddly calm in the light of what they’d just heard, “Was Miss Winters’ first name Joan?”

Prudence frowned slightly, “Yes,” she answered.

“And her husband, was his name William? William Baker?”

“I believe it was,” Prudence told her, “Why? What does it matter?”

Phryne just beamed, her fingers gripping Orpheus’s tightly in her excitement. “Because Aunt P, I had already found them. I was just trying to think of a delicate way to go about things before meeting them; but now we don’t need that. We have proof!”

“Proof?”

“That their daughter is related to us,” Phryne smiled. “You will introduce us.”

“ _Introduce you?_ Phryne, you’re not seriously considering _meeting_ these people, are you?” Aunt Prudence asked incredulously. “There was an agreement! And think what this will mean, Phryne; think of the scandal!”

“Think of poor Orpheus who has spent the last twenty years of his life believing his daughter dead!” Phryne argued. “He deserves the chance to at least meet her, Aunt P, he’s hardly going to take her from their arms and drag her off back to Sydney.”

Mrs Stanley looked unconvinced, sniffing her distaste but offering no comment.

“You can help us or not, but you cannot persuade us against meeting them; with or without you Aunt P,” Phryne said, matter of factly. “We were already planning on contacting them to arrange a meeting, when I- …went missing. Now that I know you knew this woman and made the arrangements with her, well there’s no longer any need to wait at all, is there! I have the Baker’s phone number upstairs, perhaps I should call them now,” she began to stand.

“Phryne, sit down!” Her aunt exclaimed imploringly. “Please, think about what you are doing; what this could _mean_. What if they take this story to a newspaper, or a magazine?! What if they demand money? This could ruin a lot more for you than you know, my girl.”

“Oh Prudence, shut up,” Orpheus cut in suddenly, and the two women looked over at him in some shock. Phryne had to bite back a smile at her brother’s swearing, God knew she had wanted to say the same words to her aunt more than once. Aunt Prudence however, looked completely livid.

“I did a lot more for you than you realise, young man.” She told him sharply, “Your Uncle Edward wanted nothing to do with such a thing, and I can’t say now that I blame him. But I went ahead with it against his wishes and paid the Baker’s from my own pocket. You would have never known at all where to find the child without that; she would have been lost amongst the orphans.”

“Don’t act like what you did was for my benefit,” Orpheus retorted. “But Phryne is right, you can introduce us or not, either way we will be meeting the Baker’s. As soon as we can.”

“Well that won’t be anytime soon, will it?” Prudence clucked, “Not with Phryne looking like _that_.”

Phryne winced, but swallowed hard and said quite firmly, “I believe you will find Aunt P, that I can work small miracles with my powder. I could meet them this afternoon if I wished.”

“I will not take part in this, Phryne.”

“You already have, Aunt P! You’ve played the biggest part in this. Don’t forget this is your niece too.”

“Great niece,” Prudence corrected with a sniff.

“Yes,” Phryne retorted. “Your great niece. The same as Jane.”

Prudence stared at Phryne, into the imploring stare behind the harsh bruises across her face and neck. The sight of them had her stomach twisting. Poor dear Phryne and her lovely -though frightfully modern- looks. Resigned, she lowered her gaze and gave in.

“All right,” Mrs Stanley sighed. “All right. Call them Phryne, and meet with them if you wish. I will not try to stop you.”

“Will you join us?”

“I- I don’t believe I should. Not yet.”

Phryne nodded. “But if the girl wants to-”

“We will see,” Prudence stood. “I do apologise Orpheus, that we let you believe the babe was dead all these years, but your mother and I- we thought it would be easier. We were wrong.”

“Yes.”

Orpheus and his aunt looked at each other carefully for a long minute, until eventually the older woman nodded stiffly, and made her leave.

“Well,” Phryne said once she was alone with her brother again. “That was…”

Orpheus just nodded, running his hands over his face. “What now?” he asked her eventually.

Phryne placed a hand on his shoulder, “That’s up to you I think, Orphie. What did you want to do?”

“I’d like to meet them.”

She smiled. “Me too,” she told him softly.

“But Prudence is right Phryne, you can’t meet them like this,” he turned, lifting a hand to brush back a lock of her hair, giving himself a clearer view of her bruises. “Makeup can only hide so much, and your eyes…”

Oh. Phryne felt her breath catch in surprise. Her eyes. She had forgotten.

“Dr Macmillan said it would fade,” Orpheus reassured her, placing his hand over hers. “I can wait a few more days, Phryne.”

“But you want to meet them now,” Phryne whispered.

He looked away. Of course he did; ever since they had found their names in Phryne’s telephone directory he’d been itching to go there without her.

When he looked back to his sister, Orpheus was surprised to see what looked like the beginnings of a smile pulling at her lips. He frowned at her, recognising that she had had an idea. But before he could ask, Phryne jumped to her feet and was rushing from the room, saying over her shoulder as she went.

“Stay right there!”

He stared after her as she disappeared around the corner and the sound of her footsteps rushed quickly up the stairs. Perhaps five minutes later he heard her descending them once more and she entered the room with a flourish, smiling brightly clutching a large brimmed hat to her head, and a pair of rounded sunglasses to her nose.

“What do you think?” she delighted.

He laughed. The hat was a complete mismatch to her silk blouse and red tweed skirt, but the idea was perfect.

Standing, Orpheus crossed the room to his sister and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I think perhaps we should make that phone call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a day late!! I got really distracted last night. Opps.

/// WEDNESDAY - Morning ///

Nerves were not something Phryne allowed herself to feel often. And today would be no different she decided firmly. Sitting up she greeted the day with a yawn.

She rose from her bed, leaving Jack snoring lightly to himself, and rang for coffee. Dot brought it up shortly, setting the tray down by Phryne’s vanity and disappearing into the wardrobe. Phryne sipped gratefully, pleased with the silence. She looked at her reflection, calculating which bruises had faded and which had darkened. The changes over night were insignificant however, and so she set about carefully hiding each one under powder.

Dot returned with a deep red dress trimmed with floral cream lace. She carried with it the matching coat, a pair of red gloves, cream camiknickers, champagne stockings and a pair of red shoes.

“Thank you, Dot,” Phryne murmured softly. “I will have my breakfast downstairs today.”

“Yes, Miss,” Dorothy lay the clothes across the chaise near the corner, then she left without a sound.

From the bed Jack’s snoring had faded. He began to wake, rolling over and curling into his pillow with a slight groan. After a moment his arm reached out, searching for Phryne amongst the sheets, and finding the bed empty he looked up, blinking in confusion.

“Good morning,” Phryne said from across the room.

He turned his gaze to her, pushing himself to sit up. “Good morning,” he managed back, his voice low and rumbling with sleep.

Silence sat between them for a moment, Jack adjusting to wakefulness and rubbing his hands across his face. “How are you feeling?” he asked eventually.

His question may have sounded innocent enough, but Phryne heard the unspoken words that lay hidden within them. He didn’t think it a good idea for her to meet the Baker’s so quickly, while she was still recovering. Phryne sighed, deliberately not turning to face him. The bruises were vanishing easily enough.

“I’m well,” she told Jack in lieu of an answer.

She put down her powder and reached for the rest of her make-up.

“I’m still going. Orpheus wants me there and I’m perfectly capable of going out to tea.”

He nodded, but his eyes still watched her with worry. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to join you?”

“I will be fine.”

“Phryne…”

Phryne turned to him, irritated, “I am not made of glass. Just because yesterday I-” she stopped, dropping her gaze. She did not want to fight with him about this.

“This isn’t because of yesterday. I’m your- we are _partners_ , Phryne, and I want to support you.”

“Then support me in my choice to do this without you,” she turned, looking into her own reflection to avoid his gaze from across the room. “Please Jack. I will be all right.”

Jack sighed. He pushed back the bedcovers and stood, walking in his underclothes to stand behind her. She didn’t meet his gaze and so he lowered himself to lean over her and press a kiss to her shoulder, a hand gently caressing her side.

“All right,” he murmured, looking up and into her reflection. “I will support you Phryne. But when I spoke to Mrs Baker she gave no indication of having ever heard of you.”

“If Aunt Prudence is to be believed, she knew me as a child. And she didn’t sound surprised at all when I spoke to her on the phone. Mostly she sounded nervous. It may have been twenty years Jack, but I doubt she’s completely forgotten where her daughter came from.”

Jack nodded. “In that case,” he said, straightening up and running his hand to rest on her shoulder, “I will be at the station all day, if you need me.”

Phryne sighed, watching him in the mirror and reaching up to cover his hand with her own. “Thank you, Jack.”

She leant back into his chest and tilted her head back. Jack took the hint and dipped down to kiss her softly, then he stepped away and left her to comb her hair as he began to ready himself for his day.

/ / /

Phryne stepped from the Hispano with ease and walked with her head held high to the small house in Richmond. Beside her Orpheus rolled on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped firmly behind him to prevent further fidgeting. She offered him a smile, then raised her hand and knocked.

They were not left waiting long before Mrs Baker opened the door and welcomed them hurriedly inside. She took them through to the parlour, where a tray of tea and biscuits sat waiting for them.

Orpheus sat in the old armchair and Phryne took place on the lounge, watching as Mrs Baker shakily poured tea. Into each cup went a splash of milk and a some sugar and she passed them hesitantly to her guests before sitting across from them on a footstool.

“Now that I see you, Mrs Baker, I believe I do remember you,” Phryne said, breaking the silence. “You were always very kind to me when I scraped my knees chasing Orphie and Guy.”

Mrs Baker nodded with a timid smile. “I don’t believe you ever went home once without some scrape or bruise, Miss Fisher.”

“Please, call me Phryne,” Miss Fisher said, “and do forgive me for not removing my glasses. I have recently had a rather large scrape of sorts, and the after effects are rather alarming.”

“The policemen that came by a few days ago, Miss- Phryne, they said you were missing.”

“I was,” Phryne said simply, “but as you can see, I have since been found.”

Mrs Baker nodded. She flicked her gaze to Orpheus. He was holding his cup of tea in such a tight grip Phryne was almost surprised it hadn’t shattered between his fingers.

“You know why we’re here, don’t you, Mrs Baker?” Phryne said kindly.

The older woman swallowed thickly. “Your mother finally told you about Louise.”

This surprised Phryne, and next to her on the armchair Orpheus took a deep breath.

“No,” he explained, telling Mrs Baker about Celia and his move to Sydney. How he longed to find out for sure what had happened. How Phryne had helped, how their aunt had finally confessed. “But Mother, she has never spoken to me about it.”

“She felt so terribly,” Mrs Baker murmured. “She come to see me, during the war. Bill was off fightin’ and I was here with Lolly. She come to me and said she and Mr Fisher had come into money and were off to England. Would never come back, she said; too many sad memories. But she was hopin’ to see her granddaugh’er before she left.”

“Did you let her?”

“I couldn’t tell her no. Didn’t seem right. I’d read, in the papers, about little Janey. Such terrible things.”

Phryne closed her eyes, pulling in a long slow breath. Orpheus said nothing.

“Tell us about her,” Phryne said eventually. “About Louise.”

Mrs Baker offered them a weak smile. “She’s a good girl. Church every Sunday, and she helps me with with the house and the cooking. She done well in school, stayed longer than I ever did, or Bill. Has a job with Mr Russell at his bookshop.”

“Does she know that she’s… adopted?”

“No. We never said a word to her. Mrs Stanley said we could never tell her, and your mum too. She played with Lolly all day, gave her a new teddy and some sweets - won her little heart she did. But she insisted she was just a friend of mine, from far away. Never tell anyone, she said to me. And so we didn’t. What if they tried to take her from us?”

Phryne wasn’t sure what to say to that, and even less sure what to do when Mrs Baker began to cry. Orpheus set down his teacup and reached for a handkerchief passing it to poor Mrs Baker, and she accepted it gratefully.

“Lolly’s a sweet hearted girl,” Mrs Baker told them, sniffling. “I tried my best to bring her up right, and all the money Mrs Stanley gave us, it all went to her. On her clothes an’ her toys and her schoolin’.”

“Where is she now?” Orpheus asked.

“I told her to go to the pictures. I didn’t say you were coming, not even to Bill.”

“We are not here to try and take Louise away from you, Mrs Baker,” Phryne murmured softly. “But we would like to know her. And, if she would like, have the chance to be her family.”

“How am I supposed to tell ‘er what we did?”

“I wouldn’t worry about what she thinks of you, Mrs Baker,” Orpheus said. “The choice you and your husband made did nothing but save her from a childhood of misery. If it had not been for you she could have found herself growing up in an orphanage, and I never would have found her there. You are the saviour in this story. You educated and raised and _loved_ her as your own. I can not offer her another childhood.”

Mrs Baker blew her nose, her tears still falling steadily. Phryne chewed her lip.

“There is also the matter of her further relatives,” Phryne cut in, “I have a daughter who could always use older female role models in life, and Orpheus has a young son. Louise’s half-brother.”

Mrs Baker smiled and gave a small hiccough through her tears. “Lolly’s always wanted a baby brother or sister.”

Keenly Orpheus reached into his pocket, producing the same photo he had shown to Phryne and Dot just over a week ago. Mrs Baker took it.

“A beautiful boy,” she murmured.

“Do you have photographs?” Orpheus asked hesitantly. “Of Louise; Lolly?”

Flushing slightly, Mrs Baker nodded. “Just a small few.”

She handed Orpheus his photograph before standing and moving past them to the mantle on the wall behind their chairs. A vase of flowers sat prettily between frames, one of what had to be Mrs Baker’s wedding, and another of a small girl sitting upon a beautiful old rocking horse. She selected the latter and handed it first to Orpheus.

Phryne waited. Her brother took his time with the photograph, memorising the sight and tracing a finger over the glass.

“She is so charming,” he said after a long moment. “Look, Phryne, how sweet she is,” he reached across and Phryne accepted the frame, preparing to find some false compliment for a child long grown into the young woman she’d rather know.

But as she looked down to the girl in the photograph the words froze on her lips. Tears formed behind her round sunglasses before she could stop them. Her chest began to constrict, her heart leaping to her throat and cutting away her breath. It was all Phryne could do not to run from the room that instant.

“Oh my,” she managed to say, her voice choked as she battled back her tears. “Such a sweet child. Excuse me.”

She handed the frame back to her brother and stood, swiftly leaving the room without a further word to her brother or the startled Mrs Baker.

Phryne found herself in the kitchen and had started to run water from the sink before she realised she would not be able to wash her face. She began to shake, silent sobs pulling at her chest, and she longed for a moment that Jack had come with them. Now that she had seen that girl Phryne was unsure that she could do this without him. That she could do this at all.

She heard the sound of a door open and close, and footsteps through the house. For a ridiculous moment Phryne wondered if perhaps her brother was leaving to fetch the Inspector, or perhaps a doctor for what he could perceive as her having the vapours. That notion was cut short however when a soft voice called out.

“Mum, I’m home. What’s that fancy red car in the street?”

“Lolly!” Mrs Baker exclaimed, and Phryne heard footsteps rushing through the small parlour, “You’re supposed to be at the pictures!”

“They were closed until this afternoon.”

Curiosity took hold of Phryne. She took a breath and pushed her tears and her worries to the very depth of her mind, before silently the lady detective stepped back from the kitchen into the parlour.

Mrs Baker was not there, but Orpheus sat alarmed in the armchair. His wide eyes met Phryne’s instantly across the room and she moved to him, taking his shaking hand in her own and squeezing it.

“Lolly dear, I have guests. Perhaps you should go to the shops or-”

“Guests? The fancy car is here to see us? Who is it?!” The girl’s voice was delightfully excited by the idea and the door to the parlour began to push open as Mrs Baker called behind her,

“Lolly, don’t!”

But it was too late. The young woman had stepped into the room and spotted the teacups and plate of biscuits. She smiled brightly at the sight of a finely dressed woman with fashionably short hair tucked beneath a red velvet cloche hat, and next to her a slickly dressed man, his hand currently held tight to the red gloved ones of the woman.

“Hello,” she said happily to the strangers, “I’m Louise Baker.”

Orpheus could not speak. He merely stared dumbly up at the young woman as Mrs Baker stood fretting in the doorway.

Silence hung heavy in the air, and as poor Louise began to frown at the rudeness of these guests Phryne swallowed the large lump in her throat and pulled her hand free of Orpheus’s to extend.

“Hello,” she said, her voice low and uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’m Phryne Fisher, and this- this is Orpheus.”

Louise smiled and took Phryne’s hand shaking it for a moment. Phryne held her breath.

She was a beautiful girl, standing as tall as Phryne in a modest dress that was probably made by the wearer herself. Her cheeks were high and her eyes a familiar blue, and her smile was like looking into a mirror. But what caught Phryne’s attention was the overall striking look of those eyes with that face and that long blonde hair artfully coiled back into a braided bun.

She had seen it in the photograph and she saw it in the woman before her. It was a glimpse to what might have been. Like after sixteen long and lonely years, seeing Janey all grown up.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Louise said, and her eyes sparkled in delight. “Are you my birth parents?”


	21. Chapter 21

/// WEDNESDAY - Mid Morning ///

The room was completely silent.

Poor Mrs Baker felt her knees begin to give out, and with a hand pressed to her chest she sat quickly back on her footstool, a sob heaving at her chest. Louise rushed to attend to her mother, bending down until she knelt on the floor by the older woman’s feet. 

“How did you know?” Mrs Baker asked. She was weeping, her hand shaking as she raised Orpheus’s handkerchief to her face. “How did you know, darling?”

Lolly waited for her mother to dry her eyes, then took her hands in her own.

“I heard you and father arguing,” she murmured softly. “Years ago, and then again these last few nights. You said a policeman had been asking questions about a woman called Fisher, and here they are mother- I… It’s them isn’t it? They’re my parents.”

“Actually no,” Phryne said; and she was shocked to see the girl looked disappointed.

Phryne decided to explain. “Well I’m not. Orpheus is my brother, not my husband. But he is,” she paused, glancing to her brother, then to Mrs Baker who looked faintly sick and Louise still crouched by the woman’s feet. Phryne swallowed, “He is your father, Miss Baker. And I’m your aunt.”

Lolly’s eyes flickered to Orpheus. He had tears welling in his eyes, and he gripped the arms of his chair dreadfully tight. Slowly the young woman pulled her gaze away and over to her mother as if to seek approval or permission.

Mrs Baker gave Lolly’s hands a squeeze then let them go to blow her nose into the monogramed handkerchief. Cautiously, young Louise stood up and turned to face the Fishers properly. She took a nervous step forward, and then another, and another after that. Until she was close enough to hold out her hand to the man with such familiar blue eyes.

“Hello, father,” she murmured.

Orpheus blinked, then swallowed thickly and reached a shaking hand to meet hers.

“Hello Louise,” he choked out, “I am so- so pleased to meet you. After all this time…” He stood, his eyes scanning over her.

Their handshake dropped, but Orpheus stayed close, his hands reaching up until the hovered in the air by her face.

“May I?” he asked.

Louise swallowed, “If you tell me why you’ve come for me now, and not- not when I was born.”

It was to be a long and exhausting conversation. But it was one Orpheus was very much willing to have. Before they started the group relocated to the dining table in the kitchen. Mrs Baker tried to keep her hands busy and her tears at bay by making more tea for them all. Phryne helped her as Lolly and Orpheus sat opposite each other at the table.

“Until a week ago I had no proof you were even alive, but for a feeling deep in my heart,” Orpheus began. “I was not in Melbourne for your birth, I had moved to Sydney for work. I sent money to your birth mother every week. I wrote to her often, and had many hopes for the future. But I was in no place to marry. I could not afford to give up the work that my family -my sisters just young children at the time- relied upon. And I could not send for your mother to join me in Sydney, where I lived in a small boardhouse that would have kicked me out if they knew.”

He swallowed, thinking hard about how to proceed.

“From my perspective, I received a letter one day, telling me very clearly not to send anymore of my money for the babe, as she had died in childbirth. And no matter how I tried after that, no one would talk about it. I never heard another word from your mother, or any of her family. And my own mother consistently ignored my questions, until she too stopped writing except for the occasional holiday. I have since learnt the other side to the story,” he looked to Phryne and she walked over from where Mrs Baker was pulling the whistling kettle from the stove, to sit next to him at the table.

“Our mother’s sister,” Orpheus said, “spoke to us about what she knew to have happened.”

“Your mother,” Phryne cut in kindly, and Orpheus sighed slightly in relief, “was just fifteen when she was pregnant. She was unmarried and poor, living with her mother and her brother in Collingwood. Her mother could not afford a baby, and appealed to our mother to take you once you were born. But of course we were poor too. Our father was a drunk and a gambler, and I was just five years old, my sister perhaps two. With the threat that you may be given to an orphanage looming over her head, Mother turned to her sister. They had come from a good family, and unlike my mother, Aunt P had married well and was living in some luxury with her husband and their sons.”

Lolly nodded, taking all of this information in carefully, filing it away in her mind so she wouldn’t ever forget.

“Mother confessed her worries and fears to her sister, and as is her wont, Aunt P found a solution in the form of her young and happily engaged maid…”

Mrs Baker set down the tray of fresh tea then, and Orpheus and Phryne both accepted a cup keenly, their nerves shaken. Taking a steadying breath Mrs Baker sat down next to her daughter and spoke the words she’d feared for the last twenty odd years.

“Mrs Stanley approached me, darling, about her sister’s delicate issue. And- after your father ‘nd I talked to her, and after we was married, it was arranged by Mrs Stanley that on your birth the midwife she hired would say the babe had passed. Then in secret she brung you to us, and we signed a birth certificate. You were our very own, and we swore we would never breath a word. To anyone.”

Lolly took her mother’s hand. She had tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't care to wipe them away.

“But you wanted to tell me, didn’t you mother? That is what you and Dad were fighting about.”

“Yes,” Mrs Baker sniffed. “A policeman came to the house and said Miss Phryne Fisher was missing, and that she had our phone number written down. He told me she was a lady detective, that she was meaning to contact us, and I knew it would come out. I knew. I thought it was finally time to tell you. We shoulda’ told you when you was 18 -I almost did, darlin’, but your Dad came home early to surprise us. He’s never wanted to tell you. But please don’t think badly on ‘im. You’re ‘is little girl, love, and he didn’t want some stranger stealin’ you away from us. Especially when we learnt how the Fishers had come into money- we thought they might swoop you off ta England- we was terrified.”

“Well I’m not going to go anywhere,” Lolly said. “Of course not, I will stay with you and Dad.”

“And what of your true family, Lolly?” Mrs Baker asked, squeezing her daughter’s hand, “Don't you want to know them?”

“Of course,” Lolly said, and she turned to face Orpheus, meeting his eye, “I very much look forward to getting to know you. Both of you.”

“But things will need to move slowly,” Phryne murmured softly, offering her niece a kind smile. “We would not want to upset any of you.”

“And there is more to consider,” Orpheus murmured awkwardly. “I have a family of my own, in Sydney. A wife. A son. I will need to broach this with them, delicately.”

“Then you should return to Sydney,” Lolly said, “and as you explain to them, we will write. I have always wanted a pen-pal.”

Orpheus smiled, “I think that is a most wonderful idea.”

“I agree,” Phryne said. “Orpheus will explain to his wife as you explain to your husband, Mrs Baker. And I will explain to my own daughter. Until then, perhaps we should best leave you some space. To think and discuss between yourselves.”

She pulled out a card. “And please, don’t hesitate to call if you would like to meet again. In fact, I would be delighted to have you to lunch, some time next week perhaps?”

Lolly accepted the card with a smile. They agreed to a lunch date the following week as the Baker’s led them back to the door. Polite goodbyes were exchanged with Mrs Baker, and tentative hugs given to the two Fishers by Lolly. She waved them goodbye from the door as reluctantly Orpheus walked with his sister down the path and back to the Hispano.

Phryne climbed in and he joined her, both returning Lolly’s wave as the engine started and the red car tore into the street.

They turned a corner and Orpheus let out a shaky breath.

“Are you all right?” Phryne asked idly, not taking her eyes from the road before her.

“Quite.”

“She seems a smart and pleasant girl.”

“Yes.”

“Very friendly.”

“Yes.”

“It is a good sign, I think.”

“I hope so.”

Phryne paused, licked her lips slightly with worry before opening her mouth once more. 

“She looks awfully like Janey.”

Orpheus frowned, “Does she?”

Phryne glanced at him, then back to the road quickly as she heard the yells of other drivers.

“You didn’t notice?” she asked. 

“I-” Orpheus hesitated, “Phryne I don’t really- the last I saw Janey was during her infancy.”

Phryne felt her throat constrict. Of course. “She would be twenty-six next month.”

Orpheus was not sure what to say to that. He said nothing, and silence fell between them.

/ / /

Paperwork was not something Jack had ever found enjoyable. Today however, he almost welcomed it. It kept his mind busy, away from thoughts of Phryne and her brother, or Stanley Thomas and his fate in the hospital. It kept his hands occupied too, carefully scrawling down his notes and reports, dotting each I and crossing each T. Of course it wasn’t exactly pleasant to recount the events of the last few days, but it was better than living them. Better than the fear in his chest that he would be too late, and Phryne would be-

Jack cut off the thought before he could finish it, shaking his head as though it may fly away and fall into the waste basket where it probably belonged.

His stomach took this opportunity at Jack’s slip in concentration and growled at him. Jack ignored it. Clearing his head once more he returned to his current report, rereading the words he’d written so far. But before he could return to the task of completing the report, his office door swung wide. 

Jack looked up to find Phryne standing in the doorway, sunglasses resting high on the bridge of her nose. She smiled at him tiredly, closed the office door behind her and removed the glasses.

She blinked a moment, her eyes adjusting to the change, then stepped forward and around Jack’s desk to bend and kiss him in greeting.

He smiled, kissing her softly, allowing his hand to brush just briefly over her hip before she pulled back and sat neatly on his desk.

“How did it go?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and watching her carefully.

“Almost better than we could have expected,” she told him, leaning back on her hands. “Lolly walked in halfway through tea and outright asked if we were her parents.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise.

“She’s agreed to come for lunch next week and, well I would be very grateful to you, if you could be there. As my… support.”

Her eyes met his, still starkly red. He could see her meeting today had affected her more than she wished to admit.

“Of course,” he told her. “Where is your brother?”

“On his way home I’d expect. I let him take the car.”

Jack nodded, and his stomach growled again, filling the pause in conversation. Phryne’s lips curled into an amused smile and she looked at him fondly.

“Hungry, Inspector?” She teased.

“I haven’t stopped for lunch yet,” he explained.

Phryne grinned, slipping off the desk to stand before him expectantly.

"Well then Jack, how would you like to join me for lunch?" she asked. "And perhaps we could find somewhere... private, to enjoy it?"

Jack's gaze darkened, and he swallowed, sitting forward in his chair slightly. "You certainly know how to sate a man's appetite, Miss Fisher."

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all."

"And the rest of him?" Jack asked.

Phryne licked her lips, "You tell me, darling."

Jack just smirked, then dropped his half complete report into a drawer and stood. "You know," he said as Phryne took his arm and replaced her sunglasses. "I find myself not that hungry after all."

"Really, Inspector?" Phryne murmured. "Then whatever shall we do during your much deserved break?"

Jack reached out a hand and opened his office door. "I can think of a few things," he murmured low in her ear, so only Phryne could hear. "This way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, the last chapter! But don't worry, there is a short epilogue that I will post tomorrow. :)


	22. Epilogue

/// TWO WEEKS LATER ///

“You must write or telephone,” Phryne said, “at least once a week.”

Orpheus grinned. “Of course Phryne,” he told her. “And you must make the journey, perhaps for your birthday…?”

She smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”

Orpheus was long overdue in his return to Sydney, and in a stark contrast to his arrival, he was being waved off by a small crowd of family. Phryne, her bruises faded, her eyes white once more, did not step far from his side. With her was Jack, standing back a little, happy enough to have shaken the man’s hand at Wardlow, but there at Phryne’s wish.

Jane stepped forward next. “It was so lovely to meet you, Uncle Jack.” she said, wrapping her arms around the man’s middle and resting her cheek to the buttons of his travelling coat.

Jack raised his eyebrows at Phryne questioningly but she simply shrugged and watched her brother hug her daughter.

“You should make the journey too, my girl,” he told her. “Your cousin would be delighted to meet you.”

Phryne doubted this, she had never had many good experiences with seven year old boys. But Jane would enjoy the trip all the same, it would be nice to see the bridge she’d heard so much about in the papers.

The young girl parted from her uncle and stepped aside. Aunt Prudence had expressed a very curt goodbye to her nephew the previous day, but she was not the last of the family in Melbourne.

Lolly stepped forward, tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes.

“You will write?” she asked, dabbing at her eyes with her gloved fingers.

“Everyday, if it pleases you,” Orpheus replied.

She nodded, then hesitating for just half a moment, she took another short step forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye, Father.”

He smiled, bringing a hand to cup her cheek and wipe away a stray tear, “Goodbye, my darling.”

Lolly stepped away. Jane offered her a handkerchief.

“You’d do well to keep that promise, Mr Fisher,” Orpheus faced Mrs Baker with a kind smile.

“I shall write to you as well, if you’d like, Mrs Baker.”

The older woman’s stern glance cracked, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Do,” she said, and she offered him her hand. He shook it with both of his, then kissed the tops of her knuckles.

“Thank you so very much,” he told her quietly, “for all you have done.”

She smiled and nodded, and the train beside them began to steam. A booming voice yelled along the station warning the imminent departure, and before he could leave Phryne flung herself into her brother’s arms, no longer bothering to hide her tears.

“Come back again, Orphie,” she whispered into his shoulder.

Orpheus held her tight. “I promise, Phryne.”

He kissed her cheek and stepped from her embrace up into the train. Holding to the handrail he turned to face them all and waved for a moment. They all raised an arm and waved in return, Jack stepping close to Phryne’s side and sliding a comforting arm over her waist. She leant into him slightly and continued to wave even after Orpheus had turned away and boarded the train properly, setting out to find his compartment.

The small party waited as the train left the station, and then slowly departed. Mrs Baker and Lolly went in search of a tram, and arm in arm Jack and Phryne walked with Jane back to the Hispano.

After taking Jane home, Phryne drove Jack to City South. They stepped out of the car and walked into the station together to find Constable Collins behind the desk, completely flustered as a young boy ran around the room in large circles, his mother berating Hugh for not being able to answer her demands.

Phryne raised her eyebrows at the scene.

“You do know this is a police station, young man, and not a playground,” she remarked, and the young boy stopped in his tracks to stare at her in surprise. His mother too looked up, shocked to hear a stranger reprimand her son.

“He’s bored,” the woman insisted. “This man is wasting my time!”

Jack looked to Hugh who stared back in alarm, then sighed and stepped forward. “Perhaps I can help. Detective Inspector Robinson.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” the woman exasperated. “I’m Mrs Jack Fisher; I’m looking for my husband.”

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends! I want to take the time to just say a huge thank you to all of you for reading and all your wonderful comments and words of encouragement. And also I'd like to mention again the help I had from my beta readers Sam and Gina, and earlier on in the process, Megan and Anne. You're all saints.


End file.
